Trouble: An Alpha Billionaire Romance by Lane, Ellen (1)

 

 

 

 

TROUBLE

 

E LLEN L ANE

WARNING: This Ebook contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This Ebook is for sale to adults ONLY.

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In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

All rights reserved.  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

Table of Contents

Certainty

Chapter One

 

Franklin Darwell was bored - and heaven help whoever encountered him while he was bored.

Usually, he managed to entertain himself well enough. He didn’t have a job to speak of - nothing above helping his mother manage the family estate and the odd bit of technobabble required from his useless degree; but that, of course, meant that he spent most of his time wondering what the hell he was doing with his life.

Besides barely tolerating the people around him, that was.

Usually, Franklin wouldn’t bother with coming home. When he did, his mother would only encourage him to leave again and entertain himself. Personally, he was more worried about her and her ever-increasing eccentricities than he was about his own proclivities. After all, he was used to being called “anti-social” and untenable - when really, he just had an extremely low tolerance for bullshit.

And he certainly didn’t mind calling people on it.

“Well, don’t you look perfectly chipper this morning.” Franklin looked up as his sister, Janeane, entered the kitchen. She, unlike his mother, woke at the crack of dawn every day to go for a ten-kilometer run - not that she needed to when she was a scant size two as it was.

At her comment, he merely glared at her. This was why he never came home. He was forced to interact with people who were insufferable early birds. He himself was only up because he had gone to bed around eight the previous evening.

Bored completely senseless.

Janeane sighed as she helped herself to some of the coffee he’d brewed. Among the Darwells, they were the only two that preferred coffee to tea - something that went strictly against their British roots.

And they were very British.

Franklin’s sister, however, added at least as much cream and sugar to her coffee as she did to her tea; which, in his opinion, rendered the entire affair utterly useless. The last time he checked, thirty-two-year-old women didn’t get as high off sugar as their decades younger counterparts.

“You going to have any coffee with all of that creamer?” He jibed, sipping at his own mug of black coffee.

“Oh, please.” Janeane sank down in the chair next to him at the expansive kitchen island. “Are you really going to argue that you’re tougher than I am? I’m the one about to go for a run in the freezing cold.”

“And you are welcome to it.” Franklin quipped in return, taking in the pale color of her coffee with no small amount of disgust. “I will be on call if you collapse halfway through once your sugar high has abandoned you.”

Janeane just rolled her eyes, sipping from the vile mixture in her cup. “I take it someone had a rough night? You’re rather more caustic than usual.”

To that, Franklin only grunted. He didn’t particularly feel like discussing his restlessness with Janeane at the moment. She was, after all, the well-adjusted, most doted-on out of his siblings.

When they were growing up together, there had never been any mistaking who was who: Russell was the one who would go far. He’d always been ambitious and adventurous, even after he closed himself off emotionally from the world. Janeane was the normal one - even-tempered and sweet. Franklin supposed that, out of the three of them, someone needed to be born to do justice to the family name, and that was Janeane. If their mother, by some silly stroke of ancient tradition, told her that she had to have an arranged marriage, she wouldn’t argue. She would do whatever was asked of her.

There were times that Franklin admired her for her selflessness, and times he was disgusted that he couldn’t match it.

He himself was the rogue - always getting into trouble- running away, making excuses for his poor marks in school, pulling pranks on his siblings. In truth, he never understood why his parents made him the heir to the Darwell name. In his opinion, Russell had always been more suited, despite being younger.  But when Russell left the UK, he was determined to leave his lineage behind and make it on his own.

Franklin didn’t much care if people knew who he was. Of course, British high society was such that it was rather hard to remain completely incognito, but Franklin thought he did a damned good job. He didn’t like suits and fancy name-brand clothing - though he did wear his sister-in-law’s designs when she guilt-tripped him into it. He was more comfortable in a pair of broken-in denims and a threadbare t-shirt.

Pompous parties and glittering events weren’t his thing. Of course, there were a few occasions each year when he allowed his mother to wheedle him into making an appearance, but that was the most he would endure. He didn’t really see the point in trying to convince people he was something he wasn’t. The more time he spent away from “civilized” people, the better.

“Are you going to be staying long?” When Janeane finished up her coffee, she grabbed a croissant, offering him one as well. “Russell was thinking about paying us a visit.”

Franklin grimaced. It wasn’t that he was averse to seeing his brother, per say; it was just that Russell was even more insufferable than usual since he’d gotten married. It was like he had done a complete one-eighty from a man occupied with making sure that everyone liked him to a man completely obsessed with the opinion of a single woman.

Luckily for Franklin - and for the Darwell family - that woman was pretty decent. On most days, he could tolerate Alice better than he could Russell himself. His brother was practically...floating when he walked around. Completely and totally besotted.

It was revolting.

“When is he coming? I’ll be sure to leave the day before.” Franklin said.

“You’re so supportive. I thought you adored Alice.”

“Adore is a bit strong,” Franklin rebutted, somewhat embarrassed. It was true that he had a soft spot where Alice was concerned, but that was simply because she made his brother happy. No matter what he felt about Russell wandering around with his head in the clouds, if he had managed to let go of all his past insecurities, he was better for it.

And Alice had helped him do that.

“He’ll be here in a few days - with Alice, if that helps at all.” 

Franklin snorted.

“It doesn’t.” In fact, he was always sensitive about how easily Alice seemed to slip beneath his defenses. She was a lot like he was - and that was why it was so damned easy to like her. “Besides, I was thinking about heading up North for a few weeks.”

Janeane arched a brow in inquiry. “What’s up there? Besides the bloody cold, anyway.”

Franklin drained the rest of his coffee in two gulps before setting his mug back on the counter. “Solitude.”

Janeane knew him well enough that she didn’t take the profession personally. Instead, she merely shrugged, eyeing her brother fondly. “Have a good time then.”

Franklin planned to. If he didn’t he might very well drum up some sort of trouble just to keep himself from losing his mind.

**

One of Franklin’s favorite places to be alone was a tiny village just outside of Leeds. There was a small hunting lodge there that tended to be almost empty in the fall months, which worked to Franklin’s advantage, as he didn’t tend to take very well to people who killed animals for sport.  The fact of the matter was that there were a great many people Franklin wasn’t too fond of being around, and at his hunting lodge, he could usually escape them all.

Only his mother really knew where to look for him when he disappeared, and that was the way he preferred it.

Franklin rented his usual cabin and spent his evening nursing half a bottle of bourbon and some of his favorite takeaway. It was only once he had a nice buzz going that he decided to catch a car into town. Out here, very few people recognized him, and if they did, he could usually persuade them to keep their mouth shut for a few pounds.

Tonight, he just wanted to blend into the crowd and have a few pints. The pub he frequented was one on the very edge of town - close to the lodge. Even on nights when it was crowded, it wasn’t with the type of people who tended to ask a lot of questions.

Which was just how he liked it.

The place was pretty busy for a Tuesday evening, and when he arrived, Franklin was lucky to find a seat at the very end of the bar. Jaclyn, the bartender, recognized him immediately, but he could tell it would be a while before she could make her way over to take his order. He helped himself to a handful of peanuts from the bowl on the bar before him, gazing over the crowd.

A part of him envied them. Being born into privilege wasn’t all people made it out to be, most of the time. For as long as he could remember, Franklin had constantly thought about what was expected of him. Of course, his mother wasn’t nearly as insane as others who participated in London’s social scene. She never tried to impress on him that he needed to get married or have children - but that didn’t mean Franklin just forgot about either option.

He was a selfish bastard, that he knew, but he wasn’t selfish enough to think he would ignore his lineage forever. His father had spoken with him a few times, and though Franklin made a point of trying to tune him out, he heard exactly what he said.

Too bad he was such a hard ass.

When it came to women - and he would definitely need one of those to do anything lineage-related - Franklin was amazingly picky. Unlike his brother, Russell, he didn’t make a habit out of getting women to like him. Quite the contrary, in fact. Women, in particular, seemed to think he was off his nutter.

Which was fine, until he wanted to get laid.

On those occasions, he wasn’t so fond of being avoided by women who didn’t like his sharp tongue and wit.

It wouldn’t be too awful to have a woman waiting in his bed when he returned - but Franklin wasn’t the kind of man who hired whores or called women in the wee small hours. The few times he had slept with women had been encounters where he could at least stand his chosen partner.

Which translated to him not getting laid very often.

“Hey, goldilocks, you’re in my seat.”  For a moment, Franklin found himself confused. He didn’t think the man who had just come up behind him could possibly be talking to him, but when he repeated himself, the fact was made painfully clear. “Hey you. Move your arse.”

Franklin sighed.

One of the caveats of trying to remain innocuous was idiotic people. There would always be some lummox somewhere who wanted trouble. It was one of the single situations in which name dropping might actually help him. But Franklin didn’t rely on words at times like these.

He liked to use his fists.

People tended to underestimate him as he wasn’t as large as his brother or his father. While Franklin had the height, his muscles were leaner and more compact; he still had the build of the boxer he used to be in secondary school.

As well as the skills.

Turning in his chair, he gazed up at the man behind him. He had a good two or three inches and maybe fifty pounds on him - but that mattered little. “Why don’t you just punch me?”

At his words, the larger man’s face screwed up in confusion. “What the bloody hell-?”

“It’s obvious that you want to hit something. And if that’s the case, it would have been better for you to just hit me, rather than opening your rather large mouth.”

His words had the same effect as if the man had done what he’d suggested. He immediately swung at Franklin, who ducked under his punch and planted a fist in his opponent’s belly. While the goon’s shoulders were broad enough, his midsection was soft, and he immediately doubled over, grunting in pain. Franklin didn’t give him time to recover. He followed immediately with an uppercut to the jaw that sent his opponent stumbling backwards into a nearby table.

When the table’s drinks went flying, Jaclyn’s fierce tone rang through the bar. “Break it up, you two, or get out!”

But the burly sack of shite who’d picked a fight didn’t listen. He straightened and dived at Franklin with a roar of outrage. Scowling, Franklin merely stepped out of the way, letting the brute’s own force slam him into the side of the bar. This time, when he got the wind knocked out of him, he was down for the count.

When he went down, everyone in the pub cheered. Franklin, however, merely frowned, stepping over him to take his seat on the stool once more. He hadn’t even put up that much of a fight. One would think if someone wanted to go around starting fights, they might as well at least be slightly proficient at it.

“Shall I call someone to take out the trash, Jaclyn?” The graying blonde handed him a beer over the bar, laughing at his question.

“No thanks, Franklin - though you’re a sweetheart for offering. Hopefully, he’ll be embarrassed enough to see himself out.” When he reached for a five-pound note to pay for his pint, Jaclyn merely waved him away.  “On the house, love. I think everyone enjoyed seeing that git put in his proper place.”

Not that he enjoyed trashing Jaclyn’s bar, but part of Franklin had hoped that his opponent would want to take things outside. It had been forever since he’d had a decent spar - and that, more than anything else, tended to relieve his boredom tremendously.

Of course, his mother and siblings didn’t really see it as “sparring”. They considered it brawling - but Franklin liked to think that brawlers were the type of men that ended up in the hospital. He himself had never been in the emergency room after a fight - he tended to send people to the emergency room.

“That was quite some fight you put up.” Franklin turned from the bartender at the sound of a sultry voice over his shoulder. Standing next to him was a redhead who was showing more skin than she covered. Though her face was pretty enough, her tits were hanging out of her top almost obscenely and Franklin was surprised she could even walk in the stilettos she wore. Hardly fitting pub attire.

“You a boxer?”

Though Franklin had to admit that his body was definitely willing where this woman was concerned, his mind was more absorbed with how many men she’d been with in the last month.

Or perhaps the last week.

“Used to be.” He replied noncommittally, wondering if it had really been long enough that he was going to go to bed with the first woman who propositioned him.

“Can you give me a few private lessons then?” As she said so, the redhead bent down so that nearly the entirety of her breasts were exposed as she gazed up at him with what Franklin guessed was supposed to be a sexy pout.

He lost any interest he might have had pretty immediately. “Actually, I’d rather not.”

Her face immediately crumpled, and it was obvious that Franklin had offended her - which was fine with him. “What’s your problem?” She huffed, sticking out her chest so far that Franklin was shocked that she didn’t have a double nip-slip.

Taking a sip of his beer, Franklin gave her a long, disdainful once-over. “I’m giving you a better chance with more feeble-minded men.”

Her pretty face flushed red with anger, and for a moment, Franklin was sure that she was going to slap him. Instead, however, she ended up stomping away in a huff and nearly falling flat on her arse in her sky-high heels.

He hardly had the interest to watch her go.

As the man he fought groaned and fought his way back to consciousness at his feet, Franklin turned his full attention to his beer. Perhaps his pint - and Jaclyn - were the only things that needed his attention just now. Everything else seemed to be a waste.

 

The night went on rather uneventfully. Franklin turned in around one in the morning, relishing the silence and solitude of his cabin. The next morning, he ignored missed calls from both his mother and Russell and spent his morning taking a ten-kilometer jog through the lovely fall forest. For all his sister Janeane teased him that he never ran with her, he tended to stick with a pretty strict exercise regimen when he wasn’t visiting home.

After a lazy day reading and generally doing next to nothing, somehow, Franklin ended up back at the pub. While he wasn’t in the mood for company, he always welcomed a drink, and Jaclyn knew his pace. It wasn’t long before he had a beer in his hand and was repeating yesterday’s cycle - minus the fist fight.

At least, at first.

“I’ll have a pint of Guinness, please.” Franklin was surprised to hear the coppery tones of an American. He glanced up as a man about his size sat down next to him, gesturing to Jaclyn.

Americans didn’t tend to frequent small English villages - at least in Franklin’s experience. Against his better judgment, he found himself terribly curious. Jaclyn, it seemed, noticed her newest patron’s nationality as well.

“Gimme just a second, darlin’”. She winked at him as she reached for the glass. “What’s a fine-looking yank like you doing all the way out in the country?”

Fine looking? While Franklin’s personal tastes didn’t swing towards men, he could see what Jaclyn saw in the Yank.  He was rugged looking without overdoing it, and he’d said please. That, at least, meant he wasn’t a complete arse. When Jaclyn handed him his pint he even winked at her.

Strangely, Franklin could appreciate this. Jaclyn was one of the only things in this village that he believed was vastly underrated. She was a good bartender who knew when someone wanted to talk and when they wanted to be left alone. She poured a perfect pint and was one of the few human beings on earth he didn’t mind sharing a good conversation with.

When winked at, Jaclyn merely chuckled, turning to pour Franklin another drink. Meanwhile, Franklin turned his attention to the man himself. “Excitement of London too much for you?”

Sipping at his beer, the American only smiled. “That and the sheer volume. It’s fucking huge. I didn’t come on vacation for a headache. I came for peace and quiet.”

Well, that was a new one to him. According to what Franklin heard, Americans were usually always raring for excitement. That one had come all the way to London to spend his time in the middle of nowhere...well, that was interesting.

“Isn’t there plenty of that in the States? Peace and quiet?”

“If you think so, that makes you different from any Brit I’ve ever met.” The American smirked, clearly amused. “I thought we were all heathens constantly beating our chests and guzzling coffee.”

“Personally, I believe coffee is very highly underrated in the UK.” Franklin immediately rebutted, savoring the taste of his beer. “But a nice cup every now and then also has its appeal.”

“Nice to know.” The yank grinned. “Maybe you can tell me where I can find some place that isn’t fucking Starbucks. A vacation is wasted without good coffee.”

He had, Franklin realized, the same disillusioned, bored air about him that Franklin himself so often struggled with - and that, strangely, lifted his mood. “So, what do you plan on doing with your time away from all the lights and glamour of the city?”

The American shrugged, finishing his first pint in a single gulp before gesturing for another. “Finding myself - whatever the hell it is that means.” At that, Franklin snorted. A long-wondered question, that one. “How do you entertain yourself?”

Before Franklin could think of a suitable answer, Jaclyn was chiming in for him. “Picking fights, that’s what he does. Watch yourself with this one.” Franklin couldn’t muster the wherewithal to be embarrassed. What he did was barely fighting. He merely put idiots in their places.

Instead of looking at him like he was crazy, the newcomer merely arched a brow in faint surprise. “Really?”

With a sigh, Franklin merely frowned. “Jaclyn makes it sound as if I go hunting random innocents on the streets. When brutes of unparalleled stupidity decide to test me, yes, I retaliate. Self-defense and all that.” When Jaclyn merely chuckled at the title he gave it, Franklin cast her a warning glare.

“Are you any good?”

At that, the bartender’s head whipped around in shock - as if she suspected the very question to make Franklin lash out.

The Brit, however, only found himself oddly amused at the question. “Well, I’ve never been beaten. So, I suppose that makes me capable.”

His new companion nodded thoughtfully. “I used to box myself back in college. Good work out.”

“Did you, now?”

Call him insane, but an idea was forming in Franklin’s head.  One he was sure made little sense to most, but would appeal to both he and his new-found companion. “Fancy a bout, then?”

The American’s eyes widened only slightly. “You want to fight? Here? Now?”

At Jaclyn’s warning look, Franklin only smirked. “Of course, not in the pub. We’re not animals, are we?” He stood from his stool, stretching his lean form leisurely. “We can take it outside. Just a couple of friendly rounds.”

Part of him expected the Yank to refuse. He did seem to have more sense than most of the gits Franklin usually encountered. To his pleased surprise, however, he merely followed Franklin’s lead, standing.

“Sounds like a plan to me. There is a hospital nearby, isn’t there?”

Franklin couldn’t tell if the jab was meant to be serious or playful, so he just smiled.

“Close enough.”

“You two don’t kill each other.” Jaclyn glared at them sternly. “I’d honestly prefer it if there weren’t any fighting involved at all.”

As much as he respected her, Franklin only waved her off lightly.

“We’ll be right back, Jac. Keep our seats warm.”

With that, he led the way from the pub, his blood heating in unmistakable excitement. This wasn’t like the unplanned barroom brawls he tended to get into - it was obvious that this American bloke was no idiot. It was nice, for once, to have an opponent who was ready for him; one who Franklin strongly suspected would be a challenge.

“You sure about this?” Once they had found their way to a well-lit patch of asphalt outside, Franklin laughed lowly at his companion’s question.

“Are you? I used to be quite the boxer myself.”

“And what happened?” The yank slipped his coat from his shoulders, tossing it casually over a nearby fencepost.

That was a question Franklin had never gotten before, but he didn’t hesitate to answer it. “Polo accident. I was hospitalized for a few weeks. Been working on getting myself back into tip top shape ever since.”

“That’s unfortunate.” When the American commiserates with him, Franklin noted that he actually looked sincere. Or, at least, as sincere as one could look when he was about to exchange blows with you. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

Franklin liked this chap more and more with every moment that passed. “By all means, don’t.”

With that, he settled into his own fighting stance, ready to see if his opponent was as good as he boasted.

As if some invisible signal had been sounded, they immediately went for one another. Franklin ducked under a burly arm and aimed a punch for his opponent’s face, but the American dodged. Turning deftly, he slammed his fist into Franklin’s jaw, stunning the man briefly. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually hit him. He bit his tongue and tasted blood before he forced himself to retaliate with a punch to the yank’s stomach. This time, he connected, and his opponent doubled over, grunting in pain.

Before he could hit him again, however, the American dodged deftly. With a grin at the challenge, Franklin went after him voraciously.

His opponent was just as good as he’d promised - and then some. Right up on his level.

For close to twenty minutes, the two traded blows. Every time Franklin thought he had one up on his American companion, the man doubled back and recovered until they were on even ground once more. Truthfully, Franklin couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a rousing fight. By the time both of them were out of breath, they were equally bloody and bruised, their eyes blazing with adrenaline.

Franklin’s nose was bleeding and he had a stinging cut over his left eye. His opponent had a split lip and bleeding knuckles, and he looked like he was having the time of his life.

“I hate to seem like the coward here,” Franklin managed, taking a few deep breaths, “But I just can’t see one of us getting the upper hand in this situation. We’ll be here all bloody night, and by this time, the pints are warm.”

The American merely chuckled, dropping his fists to wipe the blood from his mouth.

“I guess you have a point there. I’d really like to finish that beer, now that you mention it.”

“Well, that’s that then.” Franklin chuckled, extending a hand to clasp his opponent’s. “Franklin Darwell, by the way. I suppose we never got to any of that when we were busy bashing each other senseless.”

“Marlin Doles.” The American returned with a crooked smile. “Thanks for the most entertaining evening I’ve had since I was in the cages.”

“Cages?” Franklin arched a brow in curiosity. “I assume you weren’t in a British zoo somewhere?”

At that, Marlin laughed, loud and long. “More like an American one. I used to be a mixed martial arts fighter, once upon a time.”

“Were you now?” This evening kept getting more and more interesting by the moment. “Well let’s hear some stories then.” Franklin led the way back inside, where Jaclyn was doing her utmost to keep their beers cold. The bartender took one look at them before sighing an reaching under the bar to retrieve her first aid kit. At the sight of it, Franklin grimaced. “Come on, Jac-”

“Don’t start with me, Franklin,” she quipped in a no-nonsense tone, “You’re going to fight in my bar, you follow my rules.”

“Technically,” Marlin took his seat at the bar with a sheepish look, “We were fighting outside your bar.”

“Still my property.” Jaclyn returned with a fierce look. She only managed to maintain the facade for a minute or two, however. Once her irritation had faded, she merely tutted lowly as she tended to their wounds. “Why’re you such a bad influence on him, Franklin?”

“He’s a grown man,” Franklin couldn’t hide his smile. “His decision to be a delinquent.” Jaclyn merely rolled her eyes before pressing a band aid onto the cut on Marlin’s brow.

“And you didn’t influence him at all.”

“Well, we were fighting over who gets to take you out later this week, Jac. You know when it comes to something like that, a man’s honor is at stake.”

Of course, Franklin had done exactly that several times. Why not? Jaclyn was one of his few favorite people. The compliment, however, only earned him the smallest of smiles this go-round. “That charm isn’t going to get you anywhere, Frank.” With that, she turned away to serve another customer who was clamoring for an Amstel light.

“I guess I got you in trouble,” Marlin chuckled, glancing over at the harried bartender.

Franklin smirked. “No more than usual. I’m just pleased you actually put up a decent fight. Won many matches in your time, did you?”

“A fair few.” Marlin took a long swig of his beer. “Win many polo games?”

At that, Franklin snorted. “Polo’s not the hardest sport to play. What matters, really, is that people see you at it. Then they know how talented and affluent you are.” He’d given this speech several times to other people who insisted on making conversation with him. At this point they would usually nod thoughtfully and feign interest, making him want to throttle them.

Marlin, however, only burst into laughter.

It seemed that Franklin had finally found a kindred spirit - or at least someone who wasn’t obsessed with licking his boot heels to gain favor. “Spend a few afternoons with the queen demonstrating your prowess?” Marlin finally managed, when he had finally calmed down enough to speak. “Planning on being next in line for the throne?”

The very notion was enough to make Franklin slightly ill. It was more than enough that he was heir to the Darwell name. He couldn’t imagine the pressure the princes must be under. There was no escaping that kind of scrutiny. “God, no. I’ve enough obligations as it is.”

Marlin arched a brow, obviously intrigued, as he took another sip of his drink. “What’s that supposed to mean? Aren’t all British eternally obligated to someone?”

Franklin was about to correct him on that point when Jaclyn returned, her expression positively evil. Franklin knew what she was about to do before she opened her mouth - and knew that his rule-breaking had sealed his fate.

Leaning over the bar to speak directly to Marlin, Jaclyn revealed his secret - and Marlin’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

Chapter Two

 

Pamela was bored out of her mind. Of course, this wasn’t very out of the ordinary when one considered her line of work. She was a secretary - and an overqualified one, to say the least. While she sat at the same desk, day after day, taking notes, relaying messages and double-checking coffee orders, she was sure that, somewhere inside her, the more productive part of her was dying.

Exhaling a long sigh, she gazed around the office. The moment she’d been hired, she’d known every day here would be a trial in patience. At the time, Pam had been so desperate for a job that she’d managed to ignore her intuition in favor of a steady paycheck. So now, here she was, staring at bland white walls she’d come to despise and actually looking forward to making a coffee run. In any event, it meant that she would have an opportunity to get out of the office.

She was pretty sure that if she had to go the next hour without moving from her desk that her brain cells might start dying off; which was, she chided herself, pretty much the least mature thought she’d had all day. She might as well be an impressionable twenty-year-old trying to make it through a university lecture rather than a thirty-year-old woman who was supposed to have her life together.

“Hey, Pam, you busy?” When Sheila, one of the account managers, poked her head from her office, Pam all but leapt from her chair.

“No, Sheila. I’m free! What can I do for you?”

The woman smiled kindly at her, and, for once, Pam managed to ignore the tinge of sympathy she saw there. Sheila was one of the few women working in the office that didn’t treat her like she was an idiot simply because she found herself sliding into a gender stereotype. When she could, Sheila went out of her way to chat with her and ensure that everything was going smoothly.

Something that Pam knew she would miss when it was inevitably time to leave.

“I’ve got a few coffee orders. Would you mind running out for me?”

Just what she had been hoping for. “Not at all.” Pam all but beamed, taking the list from Sheila before grabbing her coat as she headed for the elevator. She could only hope that she didn’t look like an overly excited child as she rushed into the late autumn sunlight, taking a breath of fresh air.

She was certainly the most immature thirty-year-old she knew. Any other woman in her particular situation would feel lucky that she even had a job to take a break from - but not Pam. All she could do was lament about how exactly she’d gotten where she was, and where on earth she was supposed to go from here.

As Pam began towards the coffee shop down the street, she shoved the list Sheila had given her into her pocket. By this juncture, she knew almost everyone’s order by heart- and even if she didn’t, just a quick peek at the list would have been enough to suffice. She’d always had a near photographic memory - one that ensured that she made top marks in school and graduated in the top ten in her class from Oxford.

And yet, here she was, at age thirty, a professional temp worker. Where the hell had she gone wrong?

On some part, Pamela supposed it was an ingrained sense of cautiousness that kept her from going after what she really wanted. Ever since she was little she’d wanted to see the world - to leave England behind and discover what was beyond her safe, sequestered little world.

But, of course, life had happened. Pam had been working her way through school for as long as she could remember. First, it had been secondary school and then university, and after university, she had to work to live. All of the jobs she might have taken abroad called for experience that she didn’t have. Despite her high level of education, Pamela couldn’t speak another language fluently. She was more than proficient at history and the arts, but the jobs in those fields these days were few and far between. Eventually, Pam had fallen into temp work without thinking twice about it. It was money, which she desperately needed, and secretarial work didn’t demand any great amount of skill.

So, she could afford the rent on her minute country house, but it also meant that she was constantly bored out of her ever-loving mind. 

But it was a job.

There were times when the temp agency who placed her didn’t have any work for her. Times when she feared she wouldn’t be able to pay her rent and she would be kicked out of her home.  There were days where Pamela pinched pennies to the point where she worried about where her next meal was coming from.

And yet, she stayed at the temp agency. She’d asked herself countless times why she didn’t seek an actual position as a secretary. At this point, she’d had enough temp experience to qualify, that was for sure. But something always stopped her. Somehow, the idea of spending the rest of her life chained to a desk was terrifying. At least at the temp agency, she could always get away.

Pam ordered the coffees almost without thinking, selecting a cinnamon scone for herself. The coffee house was decorated for Christmas time, with holly and large paper snowflakes covering the walls. It was the one time of year that Pam, in particular, was reminded acutely that she had no family.

No one to phone and wish happy holidays. No one to plan to go caroling with or fight over who got the best parts at Christmas dinner. Of course, she had friends, but Pamela was fairly certain that those friends didn’t want her around for Christmas specifically because she was just a temp worker.

But that was alright with her. She was used to spending Christmas alone, and this year would be no different.

“You’re a gem,” Sheila took the coffees from her the moment she entered the office, pecking her on the cheek, and Pam grinned. She sat back at her desk to begin taking down the messages from calls she received that morning and was left in relative peace for all of about five minutes before one of the last doors in the office opened and Stanley, the accounting manager, strode purposefully towards her.

Pam girded her loins for the inevitable lecture. The man was only two years older than her, but he still felt the need to act like he was her fucking father - either that, or he always had time to throw a snide remark her way. It was infuriating, but if she wanted to keep her job, Pam never lost her temper. It was her one golden rule.

“Pamela, what is this?” He came to a stop before her desk, thrusting his coffee cup under her nose, and the young woman forced herself to take a deep breath.

“It’s your double expression chai, Stanley. Your name should be on the side of the cup. I made sure they were all marked at the coffee shop.” At that particular bit of information, the already balding Stanley looked down at the side of the cup before his brows knitted together in confusion. It was immediately apparent to Pam what had happened - he must have grabbed the wrong cup in his rush for caffeine. The question was: was Mr. Holier-than-thou now going to take responsibility, or was he going to foist it off on her? Somehow, Pamela was inclined to believe the latter.

“Well, make sure you mark the cups better next time! I can barely read this. Efficiency, Pamela.” With that, he turned on his heel to make his way back to his office, and Pam resisted the urge to throw her paperweight at the back of his head. What a pompous arsehole. If only everyone in the office could be like Sheila, she might be a little more content.

Who was she kidding?

As Pam sank back down into her seat, she went about her daily routine almost robotically. She would never be content in an office setting, but thanks to her constant procrastination, that was what she had to look forward to for the rest of the foreseeable future. At her age, starting a new career was risky - especially when she didn’t have much stocked away to last her for the search. There was a multitude of things that Pamela would like to do, it was simply that she didn’t have the resources to actually do them. Not the way things currently stood.

She didn’t usually have such an introspective day. Despite her tight budget, Pam thought a little treat was in order on her way home from the office. She stopped in at her favorite pub and was relieved to see it relatively empty for a Friday night. Usually, she would have tried to get a seat at the bar, but just now, she needed a little time to herself.

As she made her way into the smoky interior of the place, she passed a mirror hung over the fireplace at the entryway and did her best to avoid seeing her reflection. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what she would see anyway. Pamela Livingston - age thirty and beyond her prime - with her thick brown-blonde hair pulled into a chignon at the base of her neck and dull green eyes behind thick glasses. Though she had contacts, she didn’t much like to put them in. She was rather old fashioned that way, and would much rather push the damned things up her nose a thousand times than worry about losing a contact. She liked to think she was a typical British woman, neither too thin nor too thick around the middle. Sometimes, when she pranced around her bedroom in her knickers, she imagined that she liked what she saw. She had a flat stomach, nice breasts and a plump bum - not that any man had seen any of it for quite a while.

Pamela had long discovered that men didn’t take too kindly to her choice of professions either. Any man above thirty was looking for a woman whose aspirations matched their own, and Pam had never gotten close enough to a man to tell him her aspirations. That, she felt, would be a bit invasive. She was a private person, and not prone to tell her deepest, darkest secrets on a first date.

Come to think of it, that was probably why most men didn’t stay interested in her for long. That, and the fact that she didn’t put out easily either. At this point, it had easily been over a year since the last time Pam had been with a man, and she minded not one whit.

Alright, perhaps she minded a little bit, but if she couldn’t please herself, then who could she bloody well please?

“How’re you tonight, love?” Pam looked up to see Jaclyn, the bartender, hovering over her with a glass of her favorite white wine already in hand. She smiled, reaching back to undo her chignon and let her hair spill down about her shoulders.

“Stretched quite thin, thank you. Yourself?” Jaclyn smiled good-naturedly, setting the wine down in front of her.

“Better, now that I have a bit of female company. You know how these brutes can get sometimes.” She gazed around the bar at the throng of middle-aged men who were growing louder and louder with each drink they consumed. Pam didn’t think any of them could really be considered brutes. Perhaps a little rowdy when drunk, but nothing too much more than that. In any event, she’d never seen someone Jaclyn couldn’t handle with her no-nonsense attitude and firm hand. “Would you like some stew, love? It’s good tonight.”

“Why not?” Pam grinned at the prospect as her stomach growled. She had worked right through lunch, so she was starving. The food at the pub was cheap and delicious - two of her favorite things.

“Give me a minute then.” With a wink, Jaclyn left her wine and went back to put her order in. From her corner, Pam was in a perfect position to people watch - not that she found any of the drunken men milling around the pub particularly interesting. Quite the opposite, in fact. Sipping on her wine, Pam was beginning to wonder if it wouldn’t be better for her to come back on a less-crowded night when she caught sight of a man sitting at the bar, sipping at a pint.

She was struck by him because he wasn’t blustering around like many of his male counterparts in the bar. Neither did he look decidedly middle-aged. In fact, he looked closer to her age than any of the bar’s other occupants. His dark blonde hair was pulled back in a tail at the nape of his neck, exposing an angular but very handsome face with a day’s worth of blonde stubble smattering jaw. His eyes were a clear, bright blue - not yet addled by whatever beer he was drinking, and a constant, self-amused smile played about his full mouth.

He was tall. Being a tall girl herself, she could instantly tell that the form folded beneath the bar had to be close to six and a half feet tall, and though he wasn’t overly muscled, she could sense the lean strength beneath the black thermal and slacks he wore. He was, far and away, the most interesting thing in the bar - so much so that she had to make sure she didn’t get caught staring at him.

Pam couldn’t ever recall seeing him here before. It occurred to her that maybe he had come to stay in the hunting lodge at the edge of town, even as she hoped that wasn’t the case. She would never understand British men and their obsession with hunting. It was the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. Did they really need to chase animals for sport?

But the idea of this man dressed up in hunting garb, sneaking his way through the brush, was a hard one to conjure. Somehow, despite his casual garb, he seemed almost regal.

 

When Jaclyn brought her stew, she ate it quietly - contemplatively. Around her, the night’s activity only seemed to ramp further and further upward. Around ten, she paid her bill and slipped out to begin her journey home. On her way out, however, her eyes flicked towards the bar and she noticed the man she’d been watching earlier had disappeared - though to where, she wasn’t entirely sure.

Not that it mattered much. Pam wasn’t one to go after men, and men were usually off their rockers to go after her. If they managed to get past her prickly exterior, then they had her difficult personality to contend with. Her friends often told her that she was too difficult when it came to men, but Pam didn’t tend to put much stock in what they said. She didn’t relish spreading her legs for any man who spouted honeyed words in her ear. She liked a man who she could match wits with - one who wouldn’t try to get her to wear contacts and sex up her wardrobe.

Bloody hell, if she was thinking about men this much, it must have been forever since she’d last been laid.  For Pamela, sex was something that scratched an itch, and little more. She had long learned that the actual act wasn’t nearly as explosive as some women made it out to be. Quite the contrary, in fact. Most men found a comfortable position, grunted and huffed over you for a while and then pronounced themselves satisfied.

This, of course, showed exactly how much they knew about female anatomy.

Despite the stress of her day, Pam felt better once she entered the sanctuary of her townhouse. It was, by no means, a palace, but it was her little slice of heaven. Almost every inch of the small space was decorated in the style of the Far East. Of course, Pamela had never actually been out of the EU - or very far beyond the UK for that matter. But she’d always loved reading about and researching China - and longed to go there for as long as she could remember.

While she didn’t have a lot of dispensable income, she’d done the very best she could to buy bits and bobs that reminded her of things she’d seen in Chinese travel books - a painting here, a trinket there, and a few sticks of incense were all she needed to be immersed in her own little world.

Pam lit one of said sticks of incense and shed her coat and shoes on her way to the bathroom. Once she was there, she set about running a tub full of hot water while she put her things away. Her townhouse was the very first abode she’d ever been able to afford for herself - a true testament to her independence.

It was the place she felt the most comfortable.

Sinking down on her bed, the young woman grabbed a framed picture from her bedside table and looked at it thoughtfully. In the image, a small, messy-haired blonde girl clutched at the hand of a middle-aged Chinese man - both wearing smiles a mile wide. When Pam looked at the picture, she couldn’t help the way the corners of her mouth turned up.

Back then, she hadn’t been worried about money or being successful. There had only been one thing that had mattered at all to her - and she’d lost it.

 

She took her time in the bath, washing her hair and reveling in the fact that she had a whole two days of freedom ahead of her. Of course, Pam would no doubt spend the majority of them speaking to her temp agency about the next job, but that wasn’t so horrible. Her temp agency was like family - or, at least, the closest thing to family that she had.

Pam was just settling down in bed when her text tone went off. Arching a brow, she gazed over at the alarm clock near her bed to find it was close to midnight. She couldn’t imagine who would possibly be trying to contact her at such an hour, but she picked up the phone nonetheless.

At the sight of the message on the screen, she merely laughed softly.

Pam, where r u? It’s Friday. Come out and driiiiink.

Her friend Rosario had a tendency to drunk text like the business was going out of style, so this kind of thing wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. While Pam didn’t mind drinking, she was already in bed, and she didn’t much care for dressing up once she was already bathed and comfortable.

With a lingering smile, she texted her friend back: Sorry, Ros. All bundled up. Next time.

Unlike the vast majority of friends, Pam didn’t count going out, drinking herself silly, and bringing a man back to her bed the optimal night out. She’d much rather prefer to read a book or cuddle up with an inordinately large bowl of ice cream. Either way, she understood that she was the odd ball among her social circle.

And if that meant she never met a man who satisfied her, then, so be it. It would give her more time to concentrate on her goals - and how the hell she was going to make them realities.

Chapter Three

 

Though he had, indeed, come up to his hunting lodge for solitude, Franklin found that he rather enjoyed spending time with Marlin - which was, indeed, strange, as he barely liked to spend time with anyone. After a night of rather companionable drinking together, Franklin found that he was staying at an inn on the other side of town and invited him to come for a jog the next morning. Marlin took it as a challenge and showed up with bells on at 7am sharp, prompting Franklin to rush to rise from bed and join him.

He had always liked people that surprised him, and Marlin kept him guessing constantly.

He found out that the man was on indefinite work leave from a position in the media that he abhorred, but was very successful at. On his profession, Marlin wouldn’t say much more than that; which meant that Franklin was constantly trying to get him to divulge.  Marlin, in turn, distracted Franklin by asking him a bevy of questions about who, exactly, he was, and for once, Franklin didn’t mind answering them.

Marlin was not trying to interview him - that much was obvious. He wasn’t out to curry favor and he certainly hoped that Marlin wasn’t trying to marry him. But as the man wasn’t overly touchy-feely with him, Franklin found himself meeting him at least once daily for a meal and drinks where he detailed the less glamorous aspects of being part of the modern British nobility.

“So, let me get this straight,” Marlin was gazing at him skeptically over their dinner one night “The queen is your cousin. Your second cousin.”

Franklin made a face. “Don’t remind me. It’s enough that I have to show up to half the ruddy functions they put on every year and pretend I’m enjoying myself.”

“But you don’t.” Marlin added helpfully, chuckling. “Not the fancy suits, the amazing parties, people bowing and scraping to getting to you, women literally throwing themselves at your feet-”

“Yes, but what kind of women?” Franklin interjected. “Have you ever stopped to consider that, Marlin? Certainly they want the titles and the money, but none of them ever stop to think that they’ll actually get to know me if they want to marry me. And therein lies the rub.”

“Physically and not metaphorically, I hope.” Franklin merely grinned at the raunch.

“I daresay women don’t find a man quite as interesting if he’s not fawning all over them. And I can’t fawn all over I woman I don’t find the least bit appealing.”

That was the truest he could tell it. Franklin didn’t get laid that often for lack of options - he merely had ridiculously high standards, at least, that’s what everyone told him.

“So what, exactly, is it that you look for in a woman, then, Mr. High-and-Mighty?” Franklin rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his beer. Honestly, he didn’t think he was half as picky as people insisted he was.

“I just don’t like to be bored. Honestly, Marlin, there are things that every woman has. I’m not interested in what every woman has - I’m interested in the extra bits.”

Marlin smirked as he set his fork and knife aside. “Maybe you’d be better suited with someone less female, then.”

Franklin chose to ignore his snark for the moment.  “I’d like some wit, a little fire. Complacency is as boring as cleavage.”

“The man thinks cleavage is boring.” Marlin was shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re an animal. A fucking animal.”

“It’s called culture, Marlin. Something an American wouldn’t understand.” His companion merely grinned at him cheekily.

“I understand a pair of tits when I see them, Frank. You’re telling me you’re immune to that?”

“Tits are tits. Tits that can quote Shakespeare or have a conversation about the current refugee plight in the Middle East, well...those would interest me a damn sight more than just...breasts.”

Marlin was merely shaking his head, digging into his steak once more. “Man, I don’t know what confuses me more: that you’re important and you don’t give a shit, or that you’re pretty much convinced that you know everything there is to know about everything.”

“You should meet my family. I’m pretty certain I exemplify confusion for them as well.”

“Speaking of,” Marlin’s face suddenly lit as he gestured to their waitress for another beer. “My sister wants to go on some weird charity picnic thing tomorrow, and I don’t want to go. Will you come with me?”

Franklin did a double take. “Your sister? You have an English sister? How the bloody hell didn’t you mention this sooner?”

Marlin only laughed at his incredulity. “She’s not English, she’s American. Moved here a few years ago, so, of course, I’m obligated to spend some time with her.”

Franklin merely eyed him in warning. “Doesn’t mean you’re taking me to your bloody picnic.”

“Oh, come on Franklin, it would earn me some street cred with her. Bringing the handsome, dashing Franklin Darwell to her thing will make me brother of the year. Come on, man. Do me a solid.”

“A what?” Franklin arched a brow, perplexed.

Marlin merely blew out a breath, shaking his head. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder if we speak the same language.”

“Of course, we do. I just speak it better than you.” Franklin caught the roll that Marlin threw at his head with a good-natured smile as he contemplated the pros and cons of accompanying the American.

On the one hand, he thought quite highly of Marlin. The man was something of a comfort to him when friends were few and far between. It had been a good long while since he could be himself with anyone outside his family, and it was nice to know that he wasn’t half as abhorrent as most people thought he was. He enjoyed Marlin’s company, and that in and of itself was enough for him to want to pay the man a favor.

On the other hand, there was the actual event itself. It would, no doubt, involve a crazy amount of schmoozing on his part. He would have to pretend to enjoy himself when he was pretty certain that he wasn’t going to. Atop that, there were going to be women there, and Franklin found it most difficult to deal with women who were constantly vying for his attention. If only there was some way for him to attend the event without Marlin revealing who he was.

But Franklin knew that that, in and of itself, was part of the bloody favor.

Blowing out a decisive breath, Franklin drained the rest of his pint in a single gulp before replacing his glass on the table. “Fine.” He proclaimed, repressing groan at Marlin’s triumphant grin. “But don’t try to foist any women on me, alright? This is the first and last favor I’m going to pay you, understand?”

Despite his warnings, Marlin was still smiling like an utter and complete loon. “You’re going to have a good time.”

“No, I won’t.” Franklin gestured to the waitress for another pint. “I utterly and completely refuse to enjoy myself.”

Marlin snorted. “Don’t be a baby. I’ll be there. You’ll be fine.”

Franklin had to give him that, even if he would never admit it out loud. At the very least, if all the women bored him and he was forced to regale people with boring stories, he could always get drunk and embarrass Marlin. In fact, that might just be the highlight of his afternoon.

**

It was an absolutely gorgeous fall day - the kind that made Pam resent that she had to spend the entirety of her waking hours in an office. She had to stop by the park on her way to work, and that only made her even more cognizant of what she was missing. Laura Beth, one of her friends, had left a sweater at her house that she insisted on wearing to some picnic something or other she was attending that day, and so Pam had a mission to find her before she could begin her day.

When she pulled up in one of the few vacant parking spaces at the park, Pam got out to a cool breeze as the sun warmed her face. God, she’d like nothing more than to join her friends at their picnic, but she had to ride out this temp job if she wanted to pay her rent on time this month. 

“Pam!” Almost as soon as she began making her way towards the park’s entrance, her attention was drawn to Laura Beth, who was waving her over towards a line of cherry trees that were slowly shedding their leaves. “Over here!”

The coppery twang of American accents never ceased to amaze Pamela. She could pick Laura Beth out of a crowd instantly owing to the distinct way she spoke. The American transplant had been in the UK for the better part of four years and constantly attested that she wasn’t the one who had an accent, which Pam and her other British friends always thought was pretty cute.

With a small smile, Pamela hurried towards her. Laura Beth had recently cut her deep mahogany hair into a fashionably short pixie. She wore a woolen jumper and jeans that hugged her slender legs - Pam was sure she was bent on breaking a few hearts that afternoon.

Of course, Laura wasn’t alone. She had invited Rosario and Janice as well, and the three were dressed to the nines, despite the picnic being an outdoor affair. If Pam hadn’t had to go to work, she thought she might have been very content in a pair of sweatpants and a nice wooly top, but then, she had never been overly fond of showing off her figure. “Are you sure you don’t want to skip work today?” After taking her sweater, Laura enfolded her in a quick embrace before pecking her cheek.

Pam merely groaned in response as she hugged each of her friends in turn. “I wish I could, trust me. But I need the extra hours.”

“I swear, “

Rosario  was a pretty, tan-skinned girl with dark eyes and a profusion of mid-back length curls, “you’re a workaholic, love.”

Pam had told them time and again that her workaholism was out of necessity, but it was something her more privileged friends never really seemed to understand. After all, they were lawyers and doctors - people whose supreme level of book knowledge bought them a high place in society. It wasn’t as if she could blame them. Her own aspirations had never taken her that high.

“There’s always the weekend.”

“And you’d better show up,” Rosario piped up, pinching her arm playfully. In Pamela’s opinion, that was one way to make sure that she didn’t get any drunk texts from the smaller woman in the wee small hours of the morning.

“I’ll do my best.”

“You really don’t know what you’re missing, Pam.” Laura was pouting now - she was probably the only woman her age Pam knew who could pull it off without looking distinctly childlike. She leaned in conspiratorially to whisper lowly. “Apparently, Marlin met some guy whose British royalty and he’s bringing him to meet us!”

Well, in that case, Pam felt a little less guilty about rushing off to work. She had never really gotten along with affluent men. They showed her a good deal more disdain than her own friends while, at the same time, trying to get into her pants. An awful combination if she’d ever heard one; not that she would expect to catch his royal highness’ eye when there were women like Laura Beth, Janice and Rosario around.

“I’m sure you’ll have a good time, then. Don’t break his heart, Laura.” With a jaunty wink, Pam bid all of them farewell and hurried back towards her car. The last thing she wanted was to be there when an important figure arrived. That, Pamela decidedly wanted nothing to do with. She’d rather face all the mouthy managers in the office than simper to a man who thought he made panties drop at his slightest whim.

For all she cared, Laura could have him.

**

Franklin had to hand it to Marlin, that the picnic wasn’t as bad as he might have imagined. As his sister wasn’t part of British high society, the event wasn’t plagued by stuffy idiots who were all obsessed with asserting their own importance. Of course, once Marlin all but announced that Franklin Darwell had come to the function, people flocked to him like moths to a flame.

Luckily for him, Marlin had steered him towards the picnic table before he exposed him. Franklin managed a hot dog and a burger - along with a single beer - before people flocked to him, cutting off his path to food. Where they had formerly been interested in milling about trying to part with what money they deigned to donate, now they surrounded him, asking him numerous nonsensical questions that made his head hurt.

Franklin caught Marlin’s eye and glared at him, but his friend only grinned from the other side of the crowd. He was proud of his handiwork, the smug bastard. At that moment, Franklin wanted nothing more than to throttle him, but Marlin had been sure to put a healthy distance between him and his friend.

And the afternoon was only getting started.

If he was honest with himself, Franklin had to admit that things weren’t too bad. These people didn’t really seem to know what to do with him when they got him. A few harried questions and then they were pushed aside by the next group of eager beavers. He was beginning to think he could handle an afternoon of this well enough when Marlin finally rescued him, pulling him to the side with a smug smile. “Enjoying yourself, Frank?”

The taller man just glared at him. “I thought I was supposed to be. If I’d known you planned to abandon me and have your own private party, you wouldn’t have gotten me here.”

“Oh, relax.” Marlin slung an arm around his shoulders companionably. “This is hardly one of your hoity-toity parties. No one’s tried to drag you away yet, have they? Relax with us common folk for a while. Besides,” He nudged Franklin’s side knowingly, “you haven’t even met my sister yet.”

The way he said it had Franklin glancing at him suspiciously. Was that supposed to be the main event? Franklin thought he was supposed to be here to help Marlin escape from his sister, but apparently, that wasn’t the game Marlin was playing.

Before he could protest, Marlin was dragging him over to the edge of the picnic where three women were obviously waiting to be introduced.

To their merits, they were all very pretty, and he didn’t see any part of them he wouldn’t be better fantasizing about. He could instantly tell which one was Franklin’s sister. If Jaclyn thought the man himself was attractive, his sister was a pretty good female representation of him. She was shorter, with dark hair cropped into an alluring pixie, and a curvaceous figure silhouetted by clinging jeans and a jumper. Next to her was an even shorter woman who looked to be of Hispanic heritage, with long dark curls and a thin waist. The third member of their party was a blond, if a bottled one, and she wore a dress that he was sure she was freezing in. Her legs were exposed from knee to ankle, and he thought it a pity that such nice legs should be broken out in gooseflesh.

“Frank, this is my sister, Laura Beth, and her friends, Rosario and Janice.” He expected the women to titter and they did. Franklin had dressed to impress - or, at least, as much as he dared on a cool autumn day. Wool slacks, a dark overcoat and a light-colored sweater - he looked about as much like the gentry as he was ever going to on any given day.

“Heard a lot about you.” Laura Beth stepped forward to shake his hand and the scent of Gucci perfume wafted over him. “Marlin didn’t mention that you were such a looker though.”

At that, Franklin smirked. The flirting had already begun. “I would hope not. That would be...strange, to say the least.”

“Why don’t I get Franklin and you ladies a few drinks while you get acquainted.” If Franklin had been suspicious that Marlin was trying to foist his sister off on him before, now he was downright certain. Nonetheless, he watched as Marlin slipped away back towards the picnic tables, leaving him alone with three very earnest looking women.

“So nice of you to take a day off and spend it with us.” Laura immediately gushed, reaching forward to cling to his arm. Franklin fought his burgeoning smile. He supposed he hadn’t thought the woman would be so straight forward, but she was Marlin’s sister. Marlin was one of the most forward people Franklin had ever met, and more often than not, he found he liked him all the more for it.

But Franklin was pretty sure Marlin wasn’t trying to ride him into the sunset. All it took was one look in Laura Beth’s eyes to see what she wanted. But, for the time being, he would play the gentleman - something his brother Russell might have applauded him for, if he could ever catch him.

“I was already in the area on holiday,” he replied with a small smile. “It was nice to run into someone as like-minded as Marlin. I can...intimidate people at the best of times.” That was a rather nice way of putting it, honesty.

“I can’t imagine how,” Laura batted her eyelashes at him and Franklin chuckled in amusement. This was priceless. Marlin was actually trying to set him up with his sister, and by the looks of things, the woman had been prepared to try and seduce him.

“Oh, I’ve been assured that I’m a rogue by anyone of good company.” At that profession, all three women laughed in obvious disbelief. They obviously had no idea what they were getting into.

“I think the fact that you even wanted to come to this little shindig is proof enough that your intentions are golden.” Rosario and Janice were standing back to give Laura Beth room to work her charms, but that didn’t mean they weren’t making eyes at him as well.

“I didn’t really want to come, to be completely honest.” Well, he had been polite for all of five minutes. That had to be a record for him. “But Marlin’s gone a long way in alleviating my boredom, so I thought I would do him a favor.”

It was clear by the looks on their faces that they weren’t quite sure how to react to this. Janice laughed nervously, and Rosario gave a little half smile. Laura, however, recovered the quickest. “I’m sure you must be tired of my brother trying to start a sparring match with you every time you turn around. He’s regaled you with stories of how he used to be an MMA fighter, I’m sure?”

“Oh, I quite like that he’s got a strong right hook. Keeps me on my toes. You know Marlin and I met after a good bout in my favorite pub.”

Janice’s eyes widened in shock. “You fought in a pub?”

“Well,” Franklin corrected himself succinctly, “Outside a pub. Beat the stuffing out of each other, really. It was glorious.”

Now they were really lost, and for the first time that afternoon, Franklin found himself actually having fun...even if Marlin was probably going to kill him for his efforts.

“So, then you...ehm...you like to brawl, Mr. Darwell?” Rosario asked in confusion, somewhere between shock and disgust. “In public places?”

“Some public, some not-so-public,” Franklin clarified for her. “I do find the crunch of a man’s jaw beneath my fist particularly invigorating - though I must say that your brother has a particularly hard jaw, Laura.”

By now, all three women were gaping at him. Franklin found himself quite partial to the attention - at least, this type of attention. He was, by no stretch of the imagination, going anywhere near Laura in a romantic sense, so this was the next best thing.

“Punch for you, ladies.” It was at that glorious moment that Marlin chose to return. His smile, however, faded the moment he saw that his sister and friends were looking at Franklin with something more akin to horror than admiration. He looked from his sister to Franklin and then back again before frowning. “How’re things over here?”

Franklin merely grinned cheekily at him. “Oh, I was just telling them how I beat your arse when I first met you.”

Marlin’s eyes widened - as did Franklin’s grin. The man should have known him better, honestly. Shoving his sister at him and expecting him to cooperate?

“You did not beat my ass,” Marlin returned on an exasperated sigh, “And this is hardly a subject we should be discussing around women.”

“But they’re hardly gentlewomen, Marlin. I rather enjoy that I don’t have to worry that I’m being groomed for marriage or matchmaking or something as silly as that.”

He saw the comprehension dawn on Marlin’s face a moment before the shorter man groaned. Taking Franklin’s arm, he glanced briefly back at his sister with a sheepish smile. “Excuse me, ladies. I need to talk to Frank alone for a moment.”

Oh, yes, he was certainly in trouble. But it had been worth every moment.

**

Even hours after the picnic, Laura Beth and her friends were still reeling. Though Marlin had taken Franklin away for what Laura could only assume was a firm interrogation, she was still a little shocked.

She had no idea that was what men from the British upper crust acted like - even if Janice and Rosario hurried to reassure her that Darwell was simply one strange customer.

“But he’s supposed to be the Queen’s cousin or something like that, right?” She asked them, later, over her third glass of wine. “She lets him act like that?”

“Well, I’ve heard the Darwells are a... strange bunch.” Rosario whispered furtively, as if she were afraid someone might be listening. “Franklin’s supposed to be the heir, but he apparently has no interest in getting married whatsoever.”

Janice’s mouth suddenly dropped open in shock. “You don’t think he’s...you know...for Marlin?” The prospect definitely gave all three women something to mull over. It was a perfect explanation for why Franklin hadn’t seemed interested in any of them, even though Marlin himself had hinted that he was interested in meeting Laura.

“That can’t be it. Marlin’s not gay, and he wouldn’t indulge something like that.” Laura recovered quickly, waving her friends off before she frowned deeply. Despite the fact that she had hoped, rather desperately in fact, that she and Franklin would hit it off, Laura was forced to admit that the man was rather...odious. Talking about fighting and admitting that he’d only come to the picnic as a favor to Marlin after her brother made it seem like he was genuinely interested in meeting her….no wonder he wasn’t married. If he was that much of a horror with every woman he met, they must run screaming in the other direction.

“Maybe he’s one of those men that likes to play hard to get?”

“Or maybe he’s just an asshole.” Laura snickered, taking another sip of her wine. She was just tipsy enough to feel very secure in the fact that she was simply too much woman for Franklin Darwell, whatever the reason.

“Does that mean you don’t want Marlin to set up another meeting?” Janice arched a brow even as she looked at a waiter to bring the menu. The small bistro they were in was bustling, and it was a good thing they were open so late. Laura hadn’t been too fond of the half-burnt food at the barbecue.

“I can’t think of any woman that would want to meet that one again. You two are very heartily welcome to him.”

Janice merely grimaced. “If I can’t even get a good lay out of it, I think I’ll pass.”

Rosario merely smiled wistfully. “If only he wasn’t gay…”

“Hey loves, sorry I’m late.” It was at that moment that Pam chose to make an appearance. Dumping her things carelessly on the floor next to the table, she took an empty seat.

As always, she looked completely disheveled. For a long while after she’d met Pam, Laura Beth had tried to take her under her wing. Unlike Janice and Rosario, the slightly older woman was helpless when it came to dressing herself, and she wore the same work uniform every day - shapeless skirt, jumper and thick glasses. No one would possibly know that under all that ridiculousness was a pretty attractive woman.

But that was the way Pam liked it. “How was the barbecue?” Pamela looked to each of them in turn and they each came up with their own excuses to avoid her gaze. This wasn’t exactly the triumphant story she’d hoped to tell the blonde. In truth, Laura had been looking forward to showing Pam what could happen when one took pride in one’s appearance - but not only had Franklin Darwell not noticed her, he’d told her far more about her brother than she cared to know.

“It was wonderful.” She finally acquiesced, smiling a bit more harshly than she might have naturally. “Darwell was amazing.” She ignored the nonplussed looks that Janice and Rosario shot her. “Quite the English gentleman.”

At that, Pam laughed. “I can’t quite get over how enchanted you are over “English Gentleman”. They’re ruddy gits, the lot of them. Charming on the outside, but that’s about all.”

Well, it was pretty easy to see why Pamela had trouble getting a man if that was her attitude. “Well, Pam, I honestly think this one might be your type.” The words left her before she could really think about them, and in the next moment, Rosario and Janice were staring at her as if she’d grown another head.

For a moment, Laura was quite in agreement with their idea. She must have lost her mind. She’d met Franklin Darwell and hadn’t even given it her all. But, by the same token, she didn’t find the man half as alluring now that she knew how his mind worked.

Truth be told, she wanted to punish the man. He shattered any dreams she had of ending up with the royal family in literally a few sentences. He wasn’t suave, kind, or gentlemanly. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Which meant that he and Pamela were fucking perfect for one another.

“You’ve got to be joking.” She plunked down her own glass of wine on the table before taking a sip. “I don’t have a type.”

“Pam, when is the last time you got laid?” At Rosario’s question, Pamela almost spat out her mouthful of wine, looking at the dark-haired woman incredulously.

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A serious one!” Janice piped up almost immediately. “We’re trying to figure out why the hell you’re so grumpy all the time!”

Pamela, ever the clever one, only flushed - redirecting the conversation. “And you think some fucking rich royal is the one to solve the problem for me. It seems you ladies don’t know me very well at all.” Pam attempted the comment with a healthy dose of good humor, but Laura could tell by the way that she gulped her wine that this particular line of questioning was making her uncomfortable.

“Oh come on, Pam. You’re always working,” Rosario emphasized, halfway through her fourth glass of wine herself. “You never get, you know, the urge?”

At that, she simply laughed, shaking her head. “You make it sound like I’m a bloody tigress in heat or something…”

Laura Beth might have been a bit tipsy, but she was plenty sober enough to put two and two together in her mind. Franklin Darwell didn’t want her, did he? She was a successful lawyer with her entire life ahead of her, and she was smoking hot to boot. If the man didn’t want her, then Laura would love to see how he fared with someone like Pamela: self-declared man-eater.

“Maybe we should get Marlin to bring Franklin around again.” This time, Janice and Rosario were a little more discreet when they stared at her in disbelief. “We could ask him out to dinner with us ladies. Introduce him to Pam!”

“No,” Pamela rebutted her almost before she finished speaking, but that much was to be expected. Pamela Livingston didn’t date, and the rare occasions that she did spend with men were often work-related. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on, Pamela.” Laura automatically began to wheedle. As her brother, Marlin, had pointed out to her many times and with much exasperation, she was pretty damn good at it. “It’s not like you’ll be alone with him.”

“You’re right. I won’t even be without ten kilometers of him because I’ll be at home in bed.”

Damn it. Laura might have forgotten how stubborn Pam could be when she set her mind on something. If she wanted her at this dinner, she was going to have to come up with something to pigeonhole her into participating.

“Don’t you owe Lauren a favor for that time she covered for you?” It was at that moment that Janice decided to be a genius. Laura could have kissed her for her sudden revelation. There had, indeed, been one particular situation in which Pamela cited an emergency but couldn’t call out of work. It had been Lauren’s day off and, feeling generous, she offered to cover for her - never forgetting to cite that Pam would owe her one day.

She’d forgotten about it until Janice mentioned it.

At the reminder, Pamela looked to each of them in turn in disbelief. “Wha - you want to use that for this, of all things? He’s just a rich git!” Pam would find out just how right she was as soon as Laura could plan this out properly; it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“It’s more for your sake than anything else, really Pam. You might just like him!” Pam looked like she believed she’d rather add bleach to her glass than agree to Laura’s request, but the younger woman knew she had her backed into a corner now.

She blew out a long breath, before groaning as she drew a hand over her face in exasperation. “You’re really not going to let me get out of this, are you?”

Not on her life. “You’ll be thanking me this time next week.” Laura’s smile was sweet, even as she began to plot.

This was, without a doubt, going to be a night for the history books.

Chapter Four

 

“No.” Franklin was bent over a snooker table in one of the only parlors in the small village. He was already in a bad mood because his brother had called him that morning from an unknown number and he had foolishly picked up.

Which had resulted in an entirely unexpected ten-minute conversation with Russell that might or might not have killed him. The man was so ridiculously happy that Franklin could taste it - the only way to alleviate the pain was to demand to talk to Alice, which was only slightly more bearable. She, of course, had demanded that he come down to visit - after which he had conveniently promised to call her back.

After all that nonsense, he had almost killed himself during his morning run when he had stepped into the hole of an unfortunate hibernating rabbit. He had twisted his ankle so badly that, for a moment, he feared he’d broken it. In the end, he ended up hobbling back to his cabin, whereupon Marlin had called him to see if he wanted to go out.

He should have known the man had ulterior motives. After the picnic, he had sworn that he’d be more careful about trusting Marlin with anything, no matter how much they had in common. “Franklin, come on. It’s just dinner.”

“Right.” The taller man glanced over his shoulder at his companion suspiciously. “Like the other day was just a picnic. Those women all had stars in their eyes, Marlin - especially your sister. You should have known better.”

“What, are you saying my sister’s not attractive? Not smart? She’s a lawyer for Christ sake, Franklin, and she just wanted to meet you. All you had to do was be nice for an hour.”

Franklin merely smirked as he took his shot, sinking the five and six balls. “Like I said: you should have known.”

Any other man in his right mind would have throttled him. Franklin knew his own mother could have cuffed him around the head, regardless of his age. Marlin only exhaled a long sigh before a reluctant chuckle worked its way from his chest. “You’re right. I should have.”

He took his own shot, sinking an equal two balls to even the score between them. “So how about,” he mused, leaning on his cue stick as he watched Franklin prepare for his next move, “we make a wager on the outcome of the game. If I win, you come to dinner.”

Franklin eyed Marlin dubiously, sensing a trap. “And what if I win? You’d better make it good if I’m wagering another interlude with your sister and her minions.”

Marlin scowled at him. “You’re exactly the opposite of a gentleman, you know that?”

“What?” Franklin eyed him, obviously affronted. “Are they not minions? Pretty minions, but Jesus, Marlin, all they did was stare as she tried to have her way with me.”  He knew the smaller man wouldn’t be able to argue with him on that point and, true to form, Marlin didn’t. Instead, he just glared warningly at his friend. After Franklin made his shot, and a good one at that, Marlin acquiesced with extreme prejudice.

“I’ll take Jaclyn out if you win.”

At that, Franklin grinned widely. Despite the fact that both of them knew that it wasn’t really sexual interest that had their favorite bartender after them, but Jaclyn had been hinting that she’d enjoy a night out with Marlin. He was, of course, reluctant- but that was only because he didn’t know Jaclyn very well. Franklin was pretty sure that Marlin would find a date with Jaclyn far more interesting than with anyone their own age.

“I suppose that settles it, then. Prepare to lose.” Marlin, much like Franklin himself, hated the mere mention of the word.

Their match was fierce -or, at least, as fierce as a snooker match could be between two extremely competitive friends. A few snooker balls ended up on the floor and Marlin broke his cue (he was very irked at having to pay for a replacement), but, ultimately, his patience paid off.

Franklin still couldn’t believe it when the game was over. Marlin had beat him by a margin of exactly two points. Two.

“Looks like you’re my dinner date.” Christ, the American was insufferable. The moment he uttered the words, Franklin merely cut deeply-colored eyes at him, his mouth pulling into a frown.

“Does that mean I can tell them I’m gay?”

Marlin’s expression went horrified. “Fucking Christ, Franklin, grow up. Aren’t you supposed to be a member of the gentry?”

He was. The problem was: the gentry were all too stuffy and self-absorbed for their own good. All Franklin wanted - all he had ever wanted, was to live his life the way he pleased. He hadn’t yet met a woman who understood that, and he doubted Laura Beth was going to come around anytime soon. “Don’t you ever take time off from looking down at people to, I dunno, buy Maseratis? Visit Dubai? Shit rich people do?”

“But Marlin,” Franklin replied with a wicked smile, “Looking down on people is so much bloody fun.”

**

Even as the girls dragged her out towards the waiting car, Pam reminded herself for the umpteenth time that she didn’t want to be at this dinner. She was being forced to, against her will.

And not only that, her friends were making a huge to-do about it that only made her more uncomfortable. They’d come to pick her up from work before spiriting her off to the mall to buy a dress she really couldn’t afford on her salary. Then, they had barged their way into her flat under the pretense of helping her get ready.

It was far more women in the same place than Pamela had been used to for a good long while - all the curling, make-up application, leg shaving and obsessive plucking...she had thought she might go mad. But, in the end, she supposed she didn’t look half bad.

Laura Beth, Rosario and Janice, of course, were all equally stunning. They liked to wear clothes that showed off their choicer bits and they knew just how to accentuate their features with the right amount of makeup. While they had been shoving her through the mall, however, Pam had refused almost every dress they’d picked for her until she finally encountered a navy number that showed neither too much leg nor too much of her bosom. In fact, it hugged her figure in all the right places, and with a pair of black pumps, she actually thought she looked quite nice - if a little tall and gangly.

Laura Beth had done her makeup and done her best to make her wear contacts, but in the end, Pamela stuck with her glasses. She had managed to wrestle her hair into some sort of submission and half of it was piled atop her head while the rest draped almost elegantly over her shoulders.

There was no way she could do this every night, but she supposed it would work for a night out.

But this was not, Pamela reminded herself, a date. She would be with Marlin and the girls, so it didn’t matter how charming Franklin was, there was no reason she would have to interact with him directly. Absolutely none.

Despite the fact that Laura was all but tittering, Pam couldn’t help the distinct feeling of doom that lie heavy in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know this Darwell, but she was already certain that she wouldn’t like him, and she would have to pay for a fancy dinner to boot. She might look good, but by the end of the evening, she was sure she would learn her lesson: Don’t ever take favors from Laura Beth Doles.

The restaurant Laura had chosen for their little get-together was one of the best in town. One look at the elegant French double doors at the entrance and Pam knew her wallet would be hurting for weeks to come. Even if her friend had good intentions, Pam was always a bit annoyed at the way Laura seemed to conveniently forget that she wasn’t as monetarily endowed a Rosario or Janice. Even if she could bring herself up to the American woman’s standard of living, Pam didn’t know if she could. She was rather fond of living modestly.

When she and her friends stepped through the door, Marlin was already waiting for them at the hostess’ desk - and beside him… Oh my God.

Pam’s eyes widened so flagrantly she was surprised they didn’t drop from her head. She knew that man. Well, didn’t know him per say, but she definitely recognized him from Jaclyn’s Pub. The moment she laid eyes on him there a few weeks ago, she’d known she’d never forget him - not that haughty, angular, handsome face, the long hair or his piercing blue eyes.

He was dressed a little less casually today than when she’d first seen him, in a button up open at his throat and a pair of slacks that hugged lean legs and hinted at the strength of the powerful body beneath. When she realized she was staring, however, Pam quickly averted her eyes. The last thing she needed was to raise suspicion here.

“Come in out of the cold, ladies.” Marlin himself was attractive enough, with an easy smile and dark hair. Laura had never told Pam what he did for a living, but the blonde woman had always considered him far from her realm of interest because he was her friend’s brother. There was code there that she really didn’t fancy breaking. “You all look amazing.”

“Thanks for agreeing to come to dinner with us Marlin.” Laura beamed at her brother, wrapping him in a tight embrace a moment before she stepped back to turn her smile on the man beside him. “Mr. Darwell, a pleasure to see you again too.”

His smile was slow and indulgent - so much so that, for one wild moment, Pam was certain that the man had already fallen for her friend. But then, he opened his mouth. “I should think so. After all, you’re the one who initiated this little soiree.”

At his comment, Laura flushed darkly in embarrassment. It was, of course, inherently understood that she had arranged the meeting, but that didn’t mean that Franklin had to remind her of it. It took the wind right out of her sails, and Pam found herself hiding a small smile of amusement. Perhaps he wasn’t so charming as her friend thought.

Laura, however, recovered remarkably quickly. “I did indeed. Thank you for coming. You remember my friends Janice and Rosario?” She gestured to the ladies at her side who smiled at Franklin flirtatiously and he simply nodded curtly. And then, the inevitable happened. Laura took hold of Pam’s arm and forced her forward, almost as if presenting her to the man. “Mr. Darwell, this is Pamela Livingston. She’s another friend of mine that couldn’t make it to the picnic the other day.”

“I see.” Franklin gave her a once-over that made her cheeks flush slightly. “Out shopping, were you?”

“Working, actually.” The retort rolled off of her tongue a moment before Pamela turned from the man. “I’ll get the table.”  It was something she could do anyway, rather than embarrassing herself by simpering to this man just because he looked good.

And he did look quite delicious...especially that vee of flesh exposed at his throat and the hint of muscle at his chest… “Reservation for Laura Beth Doles, party of six.”

“Of course, Ma’am. Right this way.” Pam was the first one to follow after the hostess. She wanted to be seated as far as humanly possible from Franklin, but she found her plans thwarted when Laura tampered with her intended seating arrangement. She purposefully sat a single seat away from Franklin before patting the empty space between them. “Come sit by me, Pam. I need your company.”

Bloody hell, she was conniving.

In the current situation, however, there was little more Pam could do other than grit her teeth and comply with her friend’s wishes. When she received her menu, she buried her face in it, vainly hoping it would shield her for the night.

An extremely shallow dream.

“So Pam, why don’t you tell Mr. Darwell what you do for a living?” Pamela winced as Laura prodded her again not five minutes after she sat down at the table. She glanced over at her friend with a forced smile.

“After you, Laura.”

The dark-haired woman beamed. “Well,” she turned to smile at Darwell, batting her eyelashes rather rapidly. “I’m a lawyer, and Rosario here is a doctor. Janice is a lawyer too. We work at the same firm.” At each of their moments in the spotlight, her friends preened, and Pam fought the urge to gag.

Franklin only looked slightly amused. Turning to her, he arched a brow. “And what are you, a neurosurgeon?”

His flippant tone made her bristle slightly. “A secretary, actually. And I’m part of an illustrious and star-studded temp agency. So, let me know if you need any documents typed up.”

Franklin’s brow raised even further. “I certainly will. Do you happen to have a business card, so I can contact you in the future?”

Well, he was certainly flippant enough. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find me with all your considerable resources.” With a saccharine sweet smile, Pam went back to her menu, looking for the cheapest thing she could find. She was desperate for a glass of wine, but she’d be damned if she was paying twenty pounds for one. They had to be out of their minds.

“So,” Marlin cleared his throat, obviously eager to clear the tension in the air. “Franklin’s in town on holiday. Desperate to get out of London for a while, aren’t you, Frank?”

“Oh,” Janice interjected with starry eyes, already sipping on her own wine. “I love London though. All the shops, restaurants and nightlife. Why would you ever want to get away?”

“Well, it’s loud, for one. Crowded, for another.” Franklin raised a surprisingly slender hand and begin to tick off the reasons. “People are pretty much obsessed with status and money, and everyone follows me around like I’m a bloody celebrity.”

 

“But...you pretty much are.” Rosario piped up. “You’re related to the queen.” She spoke in a hushed tone, almost as if she were worried the woman herself would hear her.

At that, Franklin snorted. “Not so closely as most people would think. I can’t introduce you or anything.”

His tone was enough to tempt Pamela to look up from her menu. She had thought, if anything, that this man would be one of two extremes: either extremely pompous and completely unbearable about his station in life or to be polite to the point of being mind-numbingly boring. Curiously enough, Franklin Darwell seemed to be neither.

“But you’ve met her, of course.” Rosario rebutted, her eyes wide. “The Queen, that is.”

At that, Franklin chuckled. “I have. Very nice woman. I think she may have spoken all of ten words to me.” Pam glanced at Marlin to find him very visibly stifling laughter as Laura Beth stared at Franklin as if he were from another planet.

He, however, hardly seemed ruffled by her obvious disapproval. In fact, after ordering his drink from the waitress, he changed the subject abruptly. “So, how much have you all been following the incidents in the Middle East?”

It was clear from the looks on all three of Pam’s friends faces that they hadn’t been following any such news in the slightest. Why would they? They were busy spending the money they earned in their high-class towers. At expensive luncheons and fancy retreats. Pamela knew from firsthand experience that trying to talk about world news with her friends was like having a conversation with a brick wall.

“Are we discussing Syria, mainly? I mean, in my opinion, that’s where the epicenter of all the terror is.”

When she answered casually, Franklin turned his attention to her once more. This time, his expression held more genuine surprise than snark. “You’ve read about the conflict?”

“Read about it. Watched news segments, seen the floods of refugees pouring in on boats in which they can barely survive...you’d have to be blind not to see it.” Pam tried not to direct this jibe towards her friends, but she couldn’t help letting out just a little of the frustration that had been pent up inside of her for so long.

“Do you get many refugees this far outside London?” When Franklin spoke again, his voice held vested interest, and, for a moment, it was almost as if everyone else at the table had disappeared.

“You might not see them on a day to day basis, but there are a few places they’re being put up in the village while their paperwork is being processed. You also see quite a few families at the food banks if you get up early enough. I’ve volunteered once or twice.”

“Have you now?” At the sudden intensity of Franklin’s stare, Pamela remembered that she wasn’t wearing the most modest dress and found herself flushing slightly. It wasn’t, she quickly reminded herself, as if he was looking at her, really. He was just interested in the current line of conversation. Much more interested than he was in regaling them with stories about how he met the queen, anyway.

“When I have the time. I usually take whatever position the temp agency has available, and a lot of the firms are close to the food bank.”

“And are they all from Syria?” Franklin was now leaning towards her, and Pam noticed, with no small amount of heat rising in her belly, that he was a scant six inches from her. They were so close their knees could have touched under the table.

“Well, I wouldn’t know...don’t speak the language or anything like that. But I assume many of them are from Syria, yes. Quite a few from North Africa as well.”

“Oh, I’ve been to Egypt!” Janice immediately latched onto that particular point to work her way into the conversation. “Beautiful country. And the pyramids, absolutely glorious.”

Franklin cast her a slightly irked look. “Did you happen to read about how their government is oppressing their people? Or the rioting going on in the streets? I’m pretty sure they kept the tour buses well away from those parts of town.”

Janice was shut down immediately. Pamela knew that she was a horrible person. That Janice was her friend and she should have come to her defense, but how many times had this happened to her? She was having drinks with them at some bar or the other and they were going on about designer bags and shoes. When she broached a real-world subject she was shut down faster than she could blink, and though she had never admitted it, the brush off hurt her.

“I feel like Egypt has a history of unrest.” She chose a rather diplomatic statement to divert attention from Janice’s red face. “Their most peaceful times were ancient times. Ever since then, they’ve been the battleground for someone else’s war and now they’re fighting their own.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Franklin’s words made her heart swell unexpectedly as his gaze met hers. “There seems to be a problem with that in the Middle East in general. I do wish the UK would do more to assist.”

“Well, Mr. Darwell, I’m sure you could put a bug in the Queen’s ear.” Pam knew she had no right, but she couldn’t help teasing him. Not after the way that the girls had all gushed over him.

Marlin snorted into his wine at her jibe as Pam just smiled sweetly. To her great surprise, Franklin merely smiled back.

Though perhaps mere was far too light a word. When the man was truly smiling- not smirking or chuckling - it lit up his handsome face and made him absolutely gorgeous. Though Pam hadn’t come to dinner that night interested in him at all, she couldn’t help but be attracted to that smile.

Also, she grudgingly had to admit that he could hold a decent conversation.

“What are you going to have for dinner, Frank?” Marlin suddenly inquired, looking far too knowingly from Pam to his friend and then back again. “I want the prime rib. I’m fucking starving.”

“I’ll have the prime rib as well.” Franklin then looked to Pam, almost as if he’d waiting for her to speak. “What will you have, Pamela?”

Almost no one called her by her given name. To Pam it had always sounded a bit stiff, and hearing it used at work always made her irate; but the title rolled off Franklin’s tongue in a way that made her shiver.

What the hell was wrong with her? “I’ll have...err…” She scanned the menu frantically and found the only thing that was under twenty pounds. “A garden salad.”

At that, Franklin scoffed. “A salad, really? Bloody hell, woman, eat something. You’ve got a brilliant figure, don’t worry about it.” Strangely, Pamela was torn somewhere between indignation and pleasure at this comment. “And have some wine. How is everyone drinking except you?”

She flushed slightly in embarrassment. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Pam,” When Lauran Beth called her name in a tone fairly dripping with pity, she turned with extreme reluctance to look at her. “I can loan you a few pounds if you need it,” she spoke lowly, but not near lowly enough for anyone at the table to be ignorant of what she said. “Go ahead and splurge.”

Taking a deep breath, Pam resisted the urge to chuck her water glass at the cheeky American woman. Did she really think she was helping? She’d felt self-conscious about being in this fancy place before, but now she could feel everyone’s eyes on her, including Franklin’s, and she didn’t like it one bit. In fact, she would have preferred to sink into the ground and cease to exist than to be sitting where she was in that particular moment.

Usually, she was the first person in the room to come with a witty comeback, but Pam hadn’t been expecting such a low blow from someone who was supposed to be her friend, so she floundered.

“I’m covering the party’s bill,” When Franklin spoke, he didn’t do it gently, nor was there one iota of pity in his voice. He sounded as if he was doing nothing more exciting than commenting on the morning weather. “So, personally, I couldn’t give two chits what any of you order, only hurry it up. Marlin’s starving, remember?”

And just like that, the queasy tension of the moment was dispelled by Marlin’s laughter. Pamela’s stomach unclenched, and she stared at the pristine white of the tablecloth. Though, deep down, there was a part of her that wanted to be grateful to Franklin for his generosity (and also for helping her save face), somehow, his kindness only made her even more aware of how thrifty she had to be.

This was why she couldn’t spend time with men of wealth. Seeing the way they spent money blew her mind.

Pamela got her salad and drank water. If she was really hungry, she could make herself some eggs and bacon later - she wasn’t too worried about it. As dinner went on, her friends picked at the fish and pork chops they had ordered, preferring to guzzle wine and gush about the shopping excursion that they had planned. Marlin, for his part, was completely and totally absorbed in his steak - which meant that Franklin was her only choice for conversation.

Somehow, the man made it easy. He resumed speaking about the Middle East as if their discussion had never been interrupted. From there, he moved onto trading with India something that Pam was far less versed in, but more than willing to listen. Franklin detailed to her the factors that went into the prices of certain spices and she, in turn, told him about a documentary she watched where people in small, rural Chinese villages found the truffles eaten in five-star restaurants in the west and were paid just a fraction of their selling price.

Franklin immediately demanded the name of the program and even took it down, surprising her.

By the time everyone but she had moved onto the desert course, Pam found herself quietly fascinated by the man, if incredibly wary. She didn’t know much about him as a person, but she had at least heard of his family. He might not be best chums with the queen, but she and his father were certainly related, which made him important and ridiculously wealthy.

Just the kind of men that she tended to avoid.

That being said, she rarely encountered moneyed men that seemed to know as much about the world as Franklin Darwell.

“Dear Lord, I’m stuffed.”

“And drunk.” At his sister’s proclamation, Marlin, who had quite a few himself, grinned at her.

“Oh, shut up, Marlin.”

Pam ignored their exploits, choosing instead to sneak glances at Franklin as he took care of the check. He made no big to-do about it, merely slipping the waitress his card discreetly and tipping generously. There was more to this man than met the eye, but this was the first and last time she would ever meet him, so it was none of her affair.

She checked her watch and found that it was close to eleven in the evening. When Laura Beth ushered her out of her apartment earlier that night, Pam had been sure that the affair would drag on and she’d be desperate to leave. Now, oddly, she found that feeling had somehow abandoned her.

But she did have an interview for her next temp job early the following morning, which meant that she had to get going.

“Well, all, I need to dash.” She stood, feeling Franklin Darwell’s gaze boring into her acutely. “Thank you for inviting me, Laura,” she turned to him briefly to see a small smile playing about the corners of his lips. “And thank you for dinner, Mr. Darwell. It was wonderful.”

“You should come with me for an actual dinner.” His casual suggestion rooted her to the spot in shock. “Instead of rabbit food.”

Three hours ago, she might have slapped him, but now, Pam found that she couldn’t do very much at all. Had Franklin Darwell just asked her on a proper date? In front of everyone? What the hell was she supposed to say?

Pamela looked from Franklin’s ungodly handsome face to each of the people around the table in turn. Marlin looked as surprised as his sister - and Laura Beth’s mouth was slightly open in what could only be described as shock. Janice was staring at her with eyes as wide as saucers and Rosario had suddenly become very interested in her wine.

“I...er...I have to go.” It was the only thing she could come up with, and Pam knew it was no answer at all. “G’night.” With that, she fled the restaurant, making her way quickly to the salvation of her car. She didn’t relax until she was several kilometers away from the restaurant, headed towards home.

Had that been a disaster or something else entirely? Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure.

Predictably, Laura called her when she was only about halfway home. Pam would have assumed that she, Janice and Rosario would have gotten drunk and gone out to a bar afterwards for more debauchery. She put the phone on speaker only reluctantly, wanting nothing more to be warm in her bed, on her way to unconsciousness.

“Pam, what the hell are you doing?”

Her gaze concentrated on the road, Pam sighed. “I’m going home, Laura. I have an interview tomorrow.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Laura’s elevated, incredulous tone echoed around the car, making Pam wince. “Franklin Darwell asked you on a date and you didn’t even answer him!”

“Of course, I didn’t.” Pam returned almost immediately, turning into her flat’s community parking lot. “You know he’s not my type, Laura.”

“Not your type?” If anything, the American girl’s voice only grew more shrill. “He’s rich, gorgeous and part of the nobility! What’s not to like.”

Parking her car, Pam scowled as she answered her friend. “Seeing as how I’m pretty anti-all of those things, I can’t see why you’re so upset.”

“Jesus, Pam, does that fact that you’re struggling not matter to you? The man could be your ticket out!”

Now that they weren’t in front of five other people and Pam wasn’t feeling distinctly exposed, she didn’t hold her tongue. “Has it ever occurred to you that I like making my own way, Laura? That I don’t need you to embarrass me by throwing a pity party every time I go out with you?”

Her accusation was enough to make Laura fall silent for a brief moment, and that moment was enough for Pamela to fear that she might have offended her irreparably. Groaning, she merely shook her head as she walked up the steps to her door before apologizing. “You know what? Forget it, Laura. I’m sorry. I know you mean well, but I just can’t see myself keeping Darwell’s interest for long, so I’d rather not waste either of our time.”

Laura made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “You do know how stubborn you are, don’t you?”

Pam’s lips twitched. “I’m fully aware, thank you.” As she slipped into her foyer - her little piece of heaven - she found that she didn’t really have the energy to continue this line of conversation. “Laura, I’m tired and I need to be early tomorrow. Let me call you later.”

“Think about this, Pam. Really think about it.”

“Yes, yes. Goodnight.” She hung up before Laura could start listing more reasons it would be beneficial for her to date someone in the gentry.

Steadfastly through her evening routine, Pam refused to dwell on any part of the dinner. She showered, worked on her hair and slid into bed before thoughts of Franklin Darwell drifted back to her.

He really was completely different than she had imagined. Nothing like an uppity, self-absorbed men she’d met in his societal bracket. Atop that, for some reason, he seemed interested in her. Not gorgeous, successful Laura Beth, or exotic Rosario but her. Maybe he was out of his bloody mind. That would certainly explain a lot.

With a sigh, she rolled over and shut off the lamp, closing her eyes. What did it matter, really? She’d never see the man again.

Unless you counted the handsome, snarkily grinning face she saw when she closed her eyes to try and sleep.

**

Franklin had to admit, somewhat reluctantly, that he was disappointed in how the evening had gone. While he had known that he was going to be subjected to a gaggle of chattering women he didn’t like, what he hadn’t anticipated was Pamela Livingston.

It had been worth the charade of a dinner party just to meet her - and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he’d been immediately drawn to her. Unlike her friends, there was little artificial about Pam. The moment she’d seen him, her reaction had been completely genuine and hardly stifled.

She had been uncomfortable, to say the least. As if she, like him, had been forced into this particular situation. He felt almost sorry that he had continued to underestimate her. The first sharp reply from her alluringly full mouth had put that to right, and for the rest of the dinner, he had barely paid attention to anyone else.

He only sat next to her for two hours, but in that two hours, he’d learned quite a bit about her. First off, Pamela was unmistakably attractive. She was tall - perhaps an inch or two shy of six feet - with long, long legs, a generous bosom and a minute waist. Her face, rather than being overly painted was instead stark in its natural beauty with only the smallest bits of makeup to enhance it - and that glorious sweeping, dark blonde mane of hair...the moment she started talking about Syria, he ached to run his hands through it.

He was, no doubt, a very strange customer. Franklin could think of very few men who had to hear a woman talk before they could be sexually attracted to them - even Marlin, whom he held in high regard, liked to decide whether or not he would sleep with a woman before he’d actually spoken with her. Sheer ignorance didn’t dissuade him as much as hips that were slightly too wide or hair that was a bit too short. Though Pamela suffered from neither of these issues, it was her mind that drew Franklin to her- or, at least, it had before she’d all but fled from him.

Franklin couldn’t say he was a stranger to women walking away from him, but he had never seen one do it with such stark wariness as Pamela Livingston - almost as if his asking for a date had been what scared her away.

Before Franklin left, he asked Marlin what might have scared her away, and his friend’s answer had been slightly discouraging. It turned out that, among her group of friends, Pamela was the professed man-hater. This behavior, of course, hadn’t been so apparent during dinner. If anything, he might have thought they were enjoying one another’s company. He had even gone so far as to wonder if she might consent to visit his cabin the next time they got together.

In fact, it had been a long, long time since Franklin had wanted a woman so badly so instantaneously. Since the days of his rather reckless youth.

Despite his cool, calm demeanor, the Darwell heir could be a very insistent lover. When he wanted a woman, he wanted her. He was willing to spend all night showing her just how much he wanted her -to devote his full and undivided attention to diverting hers.

And though Pamela Livingston had run away from him - though there was little chance that he would see her again - that didn’t stop him from imagining what might happen if she came home with him. It had been so long for him that he doubted Pamela would be leaving for several days, if he could convince her.

And he was sure that he could.

Franklin thought, churlishly, that his brother Russell’s tendencies must somehow be rubbing off on him because he was struck with a sudden, eager urge to please. He had saved her face at the dinner because he couldn’t stand to see her lovely face so distorted in obvious embarrassment. It was obvious that, even if she counted Marlin’s sister and the other women she’d arrived with friends, they obviously didn’t hold her in as high regard as she held them.

He had to wonder why a woman as obviously intelligent as Pamela was working at a temp agency in the first place. She had to see some benefit in it if she stubbornly refused to let her friends lend her money and avoided extravagance, even when others were paying.

Franklin was still contemplating that particular quandary when he reached his cabin. All was quiet at the hunting lodge, and he was prepared to make himself a drink and prepare for bed. When Franklin went for his key, however, he was surprised to find that the door opened the moment he rested his hand on it.

It was unlocked.

He never left his cabin door unlocked. It wasn’t as if the lodge was dangerous, but Franklin was always wary that one of the many animals wandering around would get into his things - or perhaps a transient vagrant would decide that his bed looked inviting. He was expecting to see evidence of one of those things when he pushed open the door, but instead, Franklin was met with a scene straight out of a mystery novel.

His entire cabin had been ransacked. The desk in the front room was in complete disarray, the drawers ripped from the body and thrown on the floor. Papers were strewn everywhere. Armchairs were turned over and his suitcase had been rifled through.

His lips pressed together in a tight line, Franklin ventured cautiously through the rest of the apartment. The kitchen drawers were on the tile floor, silverware sorted through and various documents from his check out tread upon. The bedroom was, perhaps, the worst, as the mattress had actually been slit open and turned out, and his clothes were on every available surface.

Surprisingly, however, his passport was still in the bedside table drawer, along with a book full of traveler’s checks. Several expensive watches he’d brought with him were on the floor, but they hadn’t been stolen.

Which meant that the object of this break in hadn’t been robbery.

Franklin didn’t panic. He wasn’t the kind of person who panicked easily. He didn’t even leave the cabin to speak to the management. Instead, he sat on his ruined bed and sank deep into thought.

Relatively few people knew that he was here. Of course, he’d met a large number of people at the picnic, but none of them knew where he was staying. On that number, there was only his mother, Marlin, and perhaps Alice, but he couldn’t see any of them dropping the information casually.

Whoever had entered the cabin had, no doubt, been looking for something. Franklin had to assume they’d been misinformed. There weren’t many things that would be of anything beyond monetary value to anyone that he carried constantly on his person. He would, of course, inform the police, but he would try to do it as quietly as possible. The last thing he needed was his name all over the papers and his private retreat spoiled.

What on earth could they possibly want? It would have been more to their advantage to try and catch him unaware and threaten him if they were looking for something he might not be carrying - but they had obviously known he was out, or they wouldn’t have made such a ruckus.

Franklin was quickly acquiring a headache. Surprisingly, his first impulse was to pick up the phone and call someone, but he suspected Marlin would be immediately alarmed and insist he call the police - a completely unnecessary gesture. Whoever had ransacked the cabin was long gone.

He wondered, vaguely, what Pamela Livingston would think of this. Laura Beth had offered him her number before leaving but Franklin had declined out of respect for her privacy.

Now he was regretting it. Somehow, the feeling of unease churning in his gut might have been alleviated by talking to someone who wouldn’t treat him with kid gloves simply because of his station.

And with Pamela, there was no fear of that.

 

Chapter Five

 

Ultimately, Franklin decided against calling the cops and instead contacted a single detective who he knew through his mother. He was sure it was the best way to keep things quiet and maintain his privacy. The man arrived at the lodge alone and took Franklin’s statement before the management, grateful that he hadn’t chosen to take the incident public, went about helping him clean up the mess.

Surprisingly, Franklin was less occupied with the fact that someone had broken into his cabin than he was with the prospect that they expected he was carrying something of import enough to steal. If they didn’t want his passport, his watches or any other commonplace valuables, what, exactly, were they looking for?

He pondered the question as he showered and readied himself for bed - several hours later than he had anticipated. And then, strangely enough, as he settled into bed, his thoughts returned to Pamela Livingston.

If she knew that someone had broken into his cabin, would she be concerned? Would she care in the least? He had the distinct impression that, while interested in him on some level, she had every intention of keeping him at arm’s length. Would it matter to her if he were hurt? If he fell off a cliff and broke every bone in his body?

Jesus, his thoughts had become so suddenly macabre it was depressing. Why, Franklin wondered, did the opinion of a woman he’d met literally a single time matter so much to him? She didn’t know him, he didn’t know her, and one conversation didn’t change that.

Even if, in the space of that one conversation, he’d decided that he wanted her badly enough for her to invade his thought process for the rest of the night.

If his mother found out, he had no doubt she’d be thrilled. By this point, she might have convinced herself that he was asexual. Franklin wasn’t one to bring his romantic life home. Indeed, he tended to be very secretive about almost every aspect of his life, which drove the media mad with frustration.

Perhaps it was the fear of ending up as a tabloid subject that kept Pamela away from him. If she knew who he was then she also had to know what it meant to be seen with him. She didn’t occur to him as the type of woman that fed on fame. Laura Beth Doles and her friends, however...he was pretty certain that had been their aim the first time they met him.

Exhaling hotly, Franklin ran a hand through his still damp hair. If he knew what was good for him, he’d drive all thoughts of Pamela from his mind. If she wasn’t open to him, then that was that - and he had no interest in pursuing a woman that wanted nothing to do with him.

Except that wasn’t really the case with Pam, was it? She was interested. If she wasn’t she wouldn’t have spoken to him at all.

With a low curse, Franklin rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes in frustration. After all that had happened that evening, he needed sleep. The last thing he wanted was to be consumed by thoughts of a woman he didn’t even know.

When he finally slept, however, his dreams were a good deal more lurid than usual - and the woman pinned beneath him had a luxurious head of silky dark blonde hair.

 

As a result, Franklin woke up the next morning in a foul mood.

He found himself running twice as far as he usually did as he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in the cabin with only his own consciousness for  company. A little after noon, he went to Jaclyn’s pub, but she was so busy that she couldn’t spare a moment for him.

Marlin wasn’t answering his phone, and by evening, Franklin was so irritated that he contemplated borrowing one of the lodge’s hunting rifles just to fire a few shots into the air.

He had come here for peace, quiet and solitude. After meeting Pamela Livingston, all of that had somehow been ruined.

Franklin was sulking - though he himself would never have called it that - as he contemplated an early dinner when his phone rang. He stared at the buzzing device on the kitchen table for a long moment, as if daring it to continue, before it finally went to voicemail.

He needed to get out of the cabin again. If he stayed here for too long, he might do something stupid, like try to get Pamela’s number from Marlin. He had no idea if his friend even had the number, but Franklin couldn’t even bear to go into his bedroom by this point. Every time he did, he pictured what Pamela’s lovely sheet of blonde hair would look like spread across his pillows. What things might have been like if she had accepted his invitation to dinner. It had been almost a year since he’d been intimate with anything other than his left hand, and remembering the fragrance of Pamela’s perfume wafting over him the previous night was only reminding him of that particularly painful fact.

When he reluctantly took up his phone to try and reach Marlin again, he started as it began to buzz in his hand. His sister-in-law’s face scrolled across the screen and the blonde man frowned deeply. He didn’t think he was in any state to be a pleasant conversationalist to one of the few people in the world he could tolerate - but if he ignored her, well...when Russell caught up to him he was going to give him an earful over it.

And he didn’t even want to think about his mother.

“Hello?” Despite the sour tone of his voice when he answered, Alice was thrilled to hear it.

“Franklin! I’ve been trying to reach you for ages! Where on earth are you?”

At her inquiry, he sighed long-sufferingly. “Still not in London. I’m taking a little hiatus from the so-called ‘social scene’. I need some space to think.”

“Oh, come on,” All the good humor dropped from Alice’s voice as her tone turned suddenly pleading. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done? Left me in London with all these stuffy new-age aristocrats and no one to laugh at them with me? You’re a monster, Franklin. An absolute monster.”

It was the first thing anyone had said in a long time that actually lent him a pang of guilt. It was true that he often enjoyed going to social functions with Alice because they could laugh at the pomposity of the occasions. While Russell, Janeane and his mother were busy trying to make nice, Franklin and Alice often stood in the shadows, snickering at people making up reasons to flaunt their obvious wealth.

Alice was very much like him in the fact that she came from a wealthy and noble family; her situation was slightly worse than his, however, in the fact that her parents had always been on the lookout for someone their children could grow old with. Of course, it was for station’s sake more than it was for love, but somehow, Alice and her brother both ended up with mates they were completely crazy for.

Even if Franklin couldn’t possibly comprehend how anyone could be crazy over his brother.

“Well I’m your monster-in-law, so watch how you talk to me, young lady.”

Alice scoffed at his bad joke.

“Really though, Franklin. When am I going to get to see you? You can’t stay up there forever.”

Franklin was of the opinion that he really could, if he wanted. In fact, there were many occasions during which he’d contemplate skiving off completely and never returning to London. The only thing that kept him from pursuing those plans was the knowledge that his mother would probably come after him like a rabid dog.

His guilt was almost enough to make him want to take off for London that instant - to see Alice, if nothing else. But, Franklin couldn’t help feeling that, if he did so, he’d be leaving something quite undone.

And that something was blonde, witty and quite mouth-watering.

“I might have to catch you the next time you visit, Alice. Or else I’ll come and see you. I’ve got a bit of business to take care of.”

Alice gave a sigh that was a pretty good imitation of the one he’d emitted when their conversation started. “Victoria has started walking. You know that Rose is determined to drag her to every social function that we have to attend. More unwanted attention that I have to suffer without you to disperse it. You owe me, Darwell.”

“You do realize you can’t really insult me by last name when our last names are the same?”

 

“Oh, sod off.” There was good humor in the insult. “Enjoy your business then, but please don’t be a stranger, Franklin.”

“Course not,” he replied gruffly. “I’ll visit soon.” He hung up soon after placating her, staring at the phone for a long minute. If he had been thinking straight, he might have asked Alice for advice on approaching Pam. Franklin didn’t think he’d ever been so distraught about a woman running the other direction, and if it were anyone else - anyone at all- he wouldn’t have given two whits.

But Pamela piqued his interest as no woman had in a long time - and Franklin found himself unwilling to give up on her before he’d seen her at least once more.

**

When Pam’s phone rang for the fifth time since nine that morning, she was determined to ignore it. Since the fiasco with Franklin Darwell two nights ago, her friends had been calling her what seemed like every other moment, and Pam had no desire to listen to them try to convince her to go out with Franklin Darwell.

She had already made her decision, and if she never saw him again, it would be too soon. Just thinking about him was enough to make her cheeks flush and Pam was having enough of a time concentrating as it was.

“Pamela, have you finished those documents I need?” When Stanley poked his head out of his office, Pam was almost glad to see him. Glad to see Stanley. She knew that admission painted her a nervous wreck.

It took her a blessed few seconds to get the papers to him before she was back at her desk, steadfastly ignoring her cell phone and wondering how she was going to get through the rest of the day.

Pam supposed she should be savoring her last days here. After the interview she had that morning, the temp agency already had her next placement. She would only be with her current company for a few more weeks before she switched to another. Then, she would be consumed with trying to learn an entirely new routine, a new set of names, and trying to please another boss.

When the office phone rang, she answered it promptly. “Finnley Communications, this is Pamela. How may I help you?”

“You can answer your phone. You know you can’t avoid me forever, Pam.”

 

It was Laura Beth, and Pamela had to resist the urge to slam the phone down immediately. This was playing dirty if she’d ever heard of it.

“This is an office phone, Laura,” she repeated through gritted teeth. “You’re holding up the line.”

“Then answer your phone, or I’ll hold up your office line all damn day.”

Pam swallowed a few choice words that rose to her tongue before hanging up promptly. The next time Laura Beth’s face showed up on her caller ID, she picked up with a low snarl. “What do you want?”

“Oh, come on, Pam…” Laura was playing innocent after threatening her only moments earlier. “I just want to talk about Darwell. Have you given him any more thought?”

Pam had. And what she thought was that her friends only wanted her to date the man so that they could live vicariously through her, and damn what she thought.

“Laura, how many times can I say I don’t like him? He’s not what I’m looking for!”

“Oh, that is such horse shit,” The American countered, “He only had eyes for you at the dinner and you know it. He asked you out.”

“That doesn’t mean I-”

“You know, for someone whose absorbed with people’s perception of how much money she has, you’re really quick to judge Darwell just because he has a lot of money. Has that ever occurred to you?”

Her words had Pam’s mouth snapping shut in surprise. As much as she hated to admit it, Laura had a very valid point. She’d gone into the dinner with certain expectations of Franklin Darwell, and honestly, he had met none of them. When all was said and done, she had to admit that the reason she’d run out was because...well, because the man intimidated her.

But there was no way she was going to tell Laura that.

Before she could come up with a suitable retort, however, she was saved from embarrassment.

“Pamela? We need you to run down to Human Resources!” She didn’t think Sheila’s call had ever come at a better time.

“Listen, Laura, I have to go. I’ll call you back later, Ok?”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation, Pam. I’ll leave you a thousand voicemails!” Pamela was pretty ok with that threat, considering that she could just delete them. She hung up, tossing her phone in the top drawer of her desk before hurrying towards Sheila’s office. As she acquired the stack of files she needed to take down to HR, she found herself considering Laura’s words.

Whether or not Laura wanted to live vicariously through her was rendered moot if she considered that neither of them really knew what kind of person Franklin Darwell was.

Pam couldn’t lie to herself and say she wasn’t intrigued. She’d been intrigued the moment she’d seen him in the pub - before she realized who he was. But just because she was curious didn’t mean that she was free to date the man. It wasn’t as if she could just ignore that he was who he was - and there was a small, a very small part of her that was scared of what it meant if someone with that much money could make her happy in any way at all.

Despite all of Laura’s protests, she would stay away from the man - far away from him. And she would breathe easier once he left the village to return to London. Then she could go back to being safe in her preconceptions, and he could do whatever it was that the nobility did when they were being...nobility.

**

Franklin was in the middle of his morning jog, attempting to exhaust himself into forgetting about everything that had happened in the past few days. The break-in at his cottage, the dinner he’d had with Marlin and his sister’s friends, and most of all, his almost obsessive curiosity about Pamela Livingston.

By this time, he reasoned with himself, she’d forgotten that he even existed - and that didn’t sit well with him.

He was breaking his fifteenth kilometer, and it wasn’t enough, so Franklin pushed himself harder. Maybe he was getting old, but he wanted to see her so much it was almost like a physical pain. He barely even knew her, but he so seldom encountered a woman that piqued his interest like she did that every fiber of his being told him to pursue her.

Even if she didn’t want to be pursued.

Now, Franklin might not be the most polite of a gentleman, but he certainly wasn’t a brute. He wasn’t going to force his presence on her...but maybe there was another way.

When Franklin got to the top of a nearby hill that provided a pretty view of the village below, he finally stopped to catch his breath. He was supposed to be forgetting Pamela, not stewing on her.

Though honestly, he knew that might as well be a lost cause. If he were dwelling more on her than the fact that someone had broken into his cabin to steal God knew what, then he knew that forgetting her would be an exercise in futility.

So now, he just had to figure out what the most tactful method was to get her to spend time with him. It would probably, Franklin realized with a sinking feeling, involve spending more time with the women she called her friends. As loathe as he was to expose himself further to them, it was the only method he could think of in which she might be comfortable enough to accept any kind of invitation from him.

And that invitation had better be something that he knew she would have a very hard time turning down.

 

“You want to what now?”

It was hard enough for Franklin to say it the first time, so repeating his request to Marlin just about killed him. The two of them were on the porch of his cottage drinking whiskey, and Franklin supposed it was as good a time as any to talk about his plans.

“I want to invite Laura Beth and her friends on a cruise. Down around north Africa, supposed to be a top of the line ship.” He shrugged, trying to seem as casual as possible. “Figure I might as well live up to what they think I am, brighten their dreary daily lives a little.”

“Right.” Marlin eyed him with no small amount of amusement, sipping from his third drink. “Your cottage has been broken into, and you’re more interested in sponsoring my sister and her friends - who you don’t even like, I might remind you - on a super expensive cruise. Forgive me if I’m a little bit skeptical.”

Franklin had gotten around to telling his friend what happened the prior week at his cottage and he was surprised when Marlin seemed a lot more disturbed than he was. He suggested that he might do better to call the police and get them on the case, but Franklin rebuffed him by reminding him how little he liked publicity.

Well, I like safety, and it looks like yours is being threatened. Jesus, you’re so goddamned stubborn.

Franklin didn’t mind Marlin decrying his stubbornness as long as he wasn’t trying to force his hand.

“Franklin, you can cut the crap, I know this is about Pam.”

Franklin should have known better. Marlin was enough like him that he knew when he was trying to pull off a scheme. “I have to say, I’m impressed that you’re so into her that you’re willing to brave the minions again.”

At the mention of Laura Beth and her friends unofficial title, Franklin smirked. “I thought we weren’t supposed to call them that.”

Marlin chuckled. “We’re not, but I’m three whiskeys in and you’re talking about dropping thousands of pounds on them. As far as I’m concerned, pigs can fly at this point.”

Franklin rolled his eyes, pouring his fourth glass of whiskey. He had been counting on alcohol to make this better, but it wasn’t helping out nearly as much as he might have hoped.

“So, does that mean you’re going to ask them?”

Marlin choked on his whiskey, looking at Franklin incredulously. “What the fuck? This is your plot! Why can’t you tell them?”

Franklin merely glared at him as if the answer was obvious. “They don’t know me from Adam. It’d be better if you talked to them. I’m sure I’ll have to entertain them plenty if they agree.”

Marlin chuckled. “When they agree. I don’t think there’s any question that they will.”

Franklin groaned, drawing a hand through his hair as he contemplated seven days on a boat he couldn’t escape with women who were very clearly out to make him their own. He could hardly think of anything worse...but he supposed it would all be worth it if he could get at least a few hours alone with Pam every day.

“So... get back to me tonight? Let me know how it goes?”

Marlin was eying him strangely. “All this over Pam?” He sighed. “No offense, man, but I’m not sure you’re chasing the right girl. Janice or Rosario would fall all over themselves to date you if you’re not interested in Laura-”

“And that’s precisely why I’m not interested in them.” Franklin quipped, checking how much whiskey they had left. “Are you going to help me or aren’t you?” He gave Marlin a smile that was entirely too wicked for his own good. “If you want to insist that I ask myself, then I’ll find some way to do it that embarrasses the bloody hell out of everyone involved.”

 

Marlin blanched. He’d never known Franklin to be a man to make empty threats. “Fine, fine. I’ll ask them. But I’m not responsible for the consequences,” he groused. Franklin graced him with one of his rare, genuine grins.

“I do appreciate it Marlin. You’re a true friend.”

At that, the American rolled his eyes. “Of course, I’m a true friend when I do what you want. Christ, you British are manipulative as fuck.”

 

It wasn’t, Franklin told himself later, as if he didn’t trust Marlin to go about his task properly - it was simply that he just wanted to see the way Pam reacted to the prospect of spending time with him. That was why he showed up at a pub closer to the center of the village, where Marlin had mentioned that he was meeting all the girls. He didn’t go in. Rather, he bought a coffee and lingered outside the pub on the pretense of drinking it. As it was only a Tuesday night and not terribly crowded, he could hear fairly well from his place in the doorway - and with a hat pulled low on his face, no one recognized him. Janice walked right past him with a flounce of her wide hips and Franklin merely chuckled.

Pamela was the last to arrive, and she apologized for being late. It was the first time Franklin had seen her since she fled the dinner two weeks ago, and at the sight of her, his stomach clenched powerfully.

She was dressed nowhere near as carefully as she had been that night. The loose jumper she wore did no justice to the succulent form he knew lie beneath it, and the skirt she wore might have been better suited to his mother than a younger woman. Even so, none of these things could detract from her innate beauty. Her glasses had the effect of magnifying her lovely green eyes, and he wondered how such eyes might look filled with anticipation of his kiss.

“I need to do some extra work tonight, so I’ll only be able to stay for one drink.” Pam apologized as she sat down. The dowdy skirt she wore rode up so he could see the creamy length of her thigh above her knee and Franklin felt his body react instinctively.

Laura just glared at her, and Franklin was left to wonder what had happened between the two women to earn her such a dirty look. “Well, I just wanted to let you ladies in on a little secret.” Despite the fact that they had been drinking all day, Marlin seemed to require more liquid courage. “Franklin has been talking to be about taking a North African cruise the first week of December...and when I mentioned that’s the kind of thing you ladies are into, he suggested that he might like you to tag along.”

All of the girls immediately burst into excited squeals - all, that was, except Pam. She looked like she had swallowed a rather large lemon. “North Africa?” Laura was gushing excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to go!”

Well, that was pretty interesting, considering that when he asked her how much she knew about the region, she had nothing to say. “What ship is it?” Janice looked as if she was dying to know. “Is it The Majestic? I’ve heard it’s one of the most luxurious ones sailing!”

It was, in fact, The Majestic, and the fact that she knew it told Franklin that, if nothing else, she was at least versed in the more expensive things in life.

“It is.” Marlin was smiling now, clearly amused. “And he doesn’t want anyone to have to worry about anything. He has all the expenses covered.” At this, Laura Beth looked as if she had died and gone to heaven. She, Janice and Rosario seemed to be silently rejoicing at their good fortune.

Pamela, however, had only gone even paler. As much as Franklin assumed that she didn’t like other people footing the bill for her, this was a holiday that few people ever got to take. It was going to cost him a pretty penny and, in reality, the entire event was just a bid to get to spend some time with her.

He had hoped that even she couldn’t resist an opportunity like this.

“So, mark your calendars, ladies.” Marlin was raising his glass in a toast. “We’re shipping out in two weeks!”

Pamela was the only one that didn’t join in. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth in a nervous gesture that Franklin found inexplicably sexy before clearing her throat.

“Marlin, I can’t go.”

It was enough to cut through all the joy that surrounded her as everyone at the table looked at her like she had lost her mind. “...Can’t go?” Franklin could see that Marlin was trying to handle the situation as delicately as he could. “Pam, I’m not one to tell you what to do, but this is going to be epic. When’s the last time you had a vacation?”

It was clear from the expressions of everyone around the table that it had been a very long time indeed. In fact, Franklin would be willing to bet a sizeable chunk of money that Pamela took very little time for herself.

“You can thank Mr. Darwell for me.” Pamela remained firm but polite, and Franklin felt his heart sink. “But I have a prior engagement.”

“A prior engagement!?” Laura Beth burst, clearly incensed. “What engagement could be more important than an opportunity like this, Pam! You’re off your rocker!”

She only answered her with a stiff smile. “Well, if you’re really interested, I had plans to take in a prestigious antiques show that’s coming to town.”

For a long beat, no one at the table spoke, and oddly, Franklin found himself fighting a smile. It was the kind of thing he might have said, only he would have been joking. He was pretty certain that Pamela was absolutely serious.

“Antiques,” Janice repeated lamely. “You’d rather go to an antiques show than on an all-expenses paid cruise?”

It wasn’t the cruise, as the silly woman obviously failed to see. It was the connotation behind it; and that realization impressed upon Franklin that he had just made a very expensive mistake.

“Well,” Pamela explained in a perfectly level-headed tone, “Cruises can come and go, but you never know what kind of gems you can find at a show like this. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Franklin had to leave. He crumpled his empty coffee cup and managed to make it around the next corner before he burst into laughter. This woman was entirely too much. Antiques. He didn’t doubt that she actually planned to go, but the way her mind worked was both ridiculously amusing and intriguing as all hell.

He decided in that moment that he would have to see what this show was all about, if she was so unbelievably anxious to see it. He cared little about the cruise, really. It had just been part of his plan, and he was sure that Marlin, his sister and her friends would be content to go on it whether he was present or not.

Far from discouraging, this latest turn of events only made him even more determined to secure a date with Pamela. If he didn’t at least get to talk to her in person, then he wouldn’t have given it his all, would he?

And Franklin liked to think he gave anything worth its salt his absolute all.

Chapter Six

 

When Pam rose leisurely from her bath, glancing at the clock, she realized that it was nearing six - which meant the antiques show would be starting soon. By this point, she thought, almost smugly, Laura Beth, Janice, Rosario, Marlin and their incomparable host would be halfway across the Mediterranean Sea.

She honestly thought she’d done pretty well to get out of that one. She had seen through the ploy in about five seconds flat, though she had to commend Franklin on his tactics. He had spent what had to be an ungodly amount of money trying to get another opportunity to speak to her and she had wriggled out of it.

At least, that was what she assumed. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps he had just converted to Laura Beth overnight, and even now, they were schmoozing on the upper decks of the Majestic.

Pam surprised herself by frowning instead of laughing at the image that rose into her head. Somehow, she had hoped that, in light of what he’d shown her, Franklin wouldn’t be so shallow as to fall in with Laura Beth so easily. She had rather hoped…

Well, it didn’t really matter what she hoped now, did it? Franklin Darwell was now far beyond her reach, and it would be better off if he were with Laura Beth anyway. That would mean Pamela herself would feel guilty enough thinking about him to stop doing it altogether.

Now that would be a boon.

To her frustration, she found herself thinking about the man at the most inopportune of moments. When she needed to be concentrating at work, when she was taking time to meditate in the safety of her apartment. Franklin Darwell was none of her affair, and the sooner she accepted that, the better things would be for her.

At least tonight she could hope to forget about him for a few hours. While she knew an antiques show was a sad excuse for why she might not like to take a cruise, Pam had been completely sincere. The show was coming to a library at the village, and she had saved what she could for the past six weeks in hopes that she might find some particularly juicy Asian antiques that she could add to her apartment.

With Laura Beth and her other friends out of sight, Pamela could put them out of mind. She knew very well that Laura Beth wouldn’t have approved of the sweatshirt and jeans she opted to wear to the antiques show, but she couldn’t give two bloody whits. She was damned comfortable, and she was going to enjoy herself. She wasn’t going to worry about her friends, and she certainly wasn’t going to worry about Franklin bloody Darwell.

Nibbling on a digestive biscuit, Pam locked up and hopped in her car to drive downtown. By the time she arrived at the library, there were already a large number of cars in the parking lot and she felt her heart leap in excitement. She only hoped that all the good pieces hadn’t been scooped up while she was lounging in the bath.

Walking into the library was like discovering a piece of heaven. The bookshelves had been pushed aside in favor of a grouping of tables and a wide range of antiques, most of them Asiatic in origins. Pamela’s face lit up as she immediately gravitated towards the nearest table which held a number of delicately made lamps. She didn’t have much money, but she was determined to make it stretch as far as she possibly could.

She picked up a gorgeous red and black lamp at a bargain thirty pounds before a small dragon statue caught her eye halfway across the room. Pam admired the workmanship for a good five minutes before she even began to speak with the proprietor about pricing. She had a lifetime of bargaining behind her and managed to get him to let it go for forty-five pounds.

Beaming, Pamela continued to wander about the other tables beyond pleased with her purchases. She already knew where she was going to put them - there was a space that was somewhat empty on her coffee table, and the lamp could go in her living room…

“Quite the spread here, isn’t it?”

At the low comment behind her, she nodded eagerly. “Lovely. Better than I expected.”

“I should think so, considering what you gave up for it.”

Pam’s eyes widened. That voice was terribly familiar.

She whirled to find none other than Franklin Darwell smiling cheekily down at her. “You!” She burst, at a complete loss for words. “What are you doing here?”

Even as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that he was right in front of her, Pamela’s body reacted considerably more violently. Her stomach tightened, and her breath shortened as she took in his tall, lean form. He was dressed like the first time she’d seen him in the pub - in a dark t-shirt that complimented his blue eyes and a pair of jeans worn with age along with a pair of leather boots that looked as if they had seen better days. The outfit lent him a careless, edgy masculine allure that made every part of her stand up and take notice - whether she wanted it to or not.

“I came to look at the antiques. Heard they were going to have some fairly good pieces.”

For a moment, all Pam could do was gape at him. Had he utterly lost his mind? “But...what about Africa? The cruise? You’re supposed to be in the Mediterranean right now!”

Franklin shrugged casually. “I’m sure Marlin’s having just as much fun without me. More, maybe.”

Pamela had no idea what to say. She’d spent the past few days well and truly convinced that she wouldn’t have to worry about Franklin, at least for a little while, and here he was!

Stranger still, some small part of her was pleased.

Pam didn’t believe for one second that the man had come to see antiques, and that wasn’t just because there was only a handful of men at the library to begin with. That meant that there was a good chance that he, like her, had skived off an African cruise.

And for what? Certainly not to talk to her.

“Mr. Darwell, forgive me if I don’t believe you’re very interested in antiques.” At her deadpan accusation, Darwell’s lips twitched.

“You don’t beat around the bush do you?”

“You might have heard: I’m a workaholic,” she returned dryly, even as her heart fluttered. “No time.”

“Well then, I’ll get straight to it.” Slipping his hands into his pockets, Franklin rocked slightly on his heels, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’d like you to have dinner with me.”

Pam had been prepared for this - even though, as she answered, she watched the man’s face carefully. “No.”

To her surprise, Franklin seemed far from perturbed. “May I ask why?”

The question threw her for an unexpected loop and Pamela felt her cheeks flushing. It was then that she remembered that she was wearing a dowdy sweatshirt and jeans and probably looked a terrible mess. Though she prided herself on the fact that she didn’t put much into what other people thought of her, at that moment, she wished she at least used chap stick before she left the house.

“I... I don’t think I’m required to explain myself to you,” she fired back at him, eyes blazing in her own defense. “I simply don’t want to. Isn’t that enough?”

“It is.” Franklin nodded, seeming to genuinely consider her statement. “Generally speaking. But I was under the impression that we enjoyed one another’s company at the dinner a few weeks ago. Was I so horrible then?”

Why did he have to look at her like that? With an earnest interest that Pamela wasn't sure had to do with her looks at all. It made her acutely nervous and self-conscious. “Look, Mr. Darwell-”

“Call me Franklin.” He cut her off succinctly.

“Mr. Darwell,” She repeated, emphasizing his title. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but I’d hope you could take a hint. I’m not interested. I’m sure you’re not used to women telling you such things, but I assure you, I’m being completely honest.”

“Are you?”

Pamela’s eyes widened at his obvious doubt. Was she really so easy to read?

“Yes!” She burst, loud enough to draw the attention of several people nearby who eyed her with disapproval. She noticed almost immediately, her mouth snapping shut as her coloring heightened.

 

“Come this way.” Darwell caught her completely unaware when his hand wrapped around her forearm, steering her from the library and into the crisp autumn air outside. When he let her go, she turned to face him, incensed. “You were being rather loud.”

“And you’re being rather too forceful.” She could still feel his hand where he’d touched her and her whole body was aware of his nearness. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

“The part where I don’t ever get to see those lovely green eyes of yours again - or hear you drag me verbally across the coals so I can feel the burns for ages.”

Pamela couldn’t help it. At that line, she burst into laughter.

This was utterly ridiculous. Her lovely green eyes were probably close to invisible behind her coke-bottle glasses, and if he was implying that he liked hearing even her rejections, that was a major stretch. But he was clever, she had to give him that. Clever and handsome and horrendously glib.

“Come on.” As she managed to calm down, smiling for God-knew-what reason, Franklin spoke again, his own smile now spreading across his face. “Tell me: what will it take? One date? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Pam was pretty sure she was dreaming. That she would wake up in her bed cursing herself for falling asleep with Franklin Darwell on the brain. But, if she wasn’t, was she really going to run away from this again? The man had followed her to a goddamned antiques show. He had blown off a cruise he had probably paid thousands of pounds for, and he didn’t appear to be fazed at all.

Finally recovering from her mirth, Pam took a deep, steadying breath before looking him directly in the eye. “I abhor fancy parties and pretentious gatherings. I don’t like fancy restaurants and I’m pretty sure that if I had to sit through a ballet or an opera I’d expire from boredom.”

“Glad we’re in agreement there.” Franklin chuckled with a surprising amount of good humor. “Now that we know what you don’t like, what do you want? Tell me, if you could do anything you pleased, absolutely anything what would it be?”

The conversation had taken a pretty unexpected turn - but nonetheless, Pam found herself answering without hesitation - as if the answer had always been on the tip of her tongue. “China.”

Franklin arched an inquiring brow, making her blush slightly. “I mean…” she drew herself up to her full height -which, while not inconsiderable, certainly wasn’t equal with his. “I’ve always wanted to go to China, since you asked.”

For a long beat, silence reigned between them. It was enough time for embarrassment to settle over Pam as she regretted her words. What the hell was she doing? She didn’t even know this man and here she was, telling him what she had only told a handful of the people closest to her. She didn’t know why she had done it, and half of her expected him to laugh. How was she supposed to get to China? She could barely afford her flat in the village!

“What part of China?”

She snapped back to reality, when she realized Franklin had asked her a question.

“I... what?”

“I asked what part of China you wanted to visit?” His face held genuine interest - enough for her to answer his question, albeit reluctantly.

“Beijing. Shanghai. Guangzhou. Hong Kong...the major cities, at least. I’d like to see all of it, but I’ll settle for whatever I can get.”

She expected him to ask why. If she ever got to this point with a friend or, God forbid, a potential lover, they always asked why she was so interested in a place she’d never been. 

“Alright, then. Let’s go.” When his hand wrapped around hers, a jolt of heat shot up her arm and Pam didn’t recover until he had dragged her halfway across the parking lot. Her heart leapt into her throat as she stared up at him incredulously.

“What the bloody hell do you mean ‘let’s go’?”

“I mean we’re going to the airport. We’re going to catch the next flight to Beijing.” He said the words as if he were talking about the evening’s weather patterns and Pam stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. She was almost certain that he was joking until he hailed a taxi at the side of the road and proceeded to direct the man to Heathrow Airport - three hours away.

“What? Franklin, we can’t!” He was serious. He was absolutely serious. Pamela jerked her hands from his before he could get into the taxi, her breath coming in great gusts. This was insane.

Franklin merely fixed her with his steadfast, calm blue gaze, one hand on the roof of the cab.  “Why can’t we?”

“Because we...I... I have work! I have rent to pay. I can’t leave my flat. My car...and... I don’t have any money! I need a visa! I’m not prepared to go on a trip at all!”

Franklin merely exhaled a long breath, letting go of her hand so she felt an odd sense of loss. “I know you don’t think much of my being a noble, but you know it does have its advantages.” He chuckled at her nonplussed expression. “You might not want to go to Africa, Pamela, but you’ve just told me that China is your heart’s desire. Are you really going to say no to this?”

“I... I…”

“I’m telling you I can get you there. I don’t give two bloody whits about money and if you want to tell me not to spend it on you, I’m telling you I’d spend it anyway. Better on you then on something ridiculous and material. I like you, Pamela Livingston, and if taking you to China is the only way I’ll get to spend time with you, I’ll kidnap you if that’s what it takes.”

She blinked, rendered utterly speechless.

Franklin only grinned. “Of course, I’d prefer you go willingly. I’ve never committed a felony. At least, not purposefully.”

He was rapidly wearing away her resistance. As odd as all of this was...as impossible as it was, Pam found she’d never wanted anything more in her life. To leave the doldrums of her day to day behind and have a genuine adventure...it was something she had dreamed of since she was little. The man was offering her exactly what she’d always desired just to go on a date with her. He was telling her he’d kidnap her if that’s what it took, and she might be insane, but Pam found it a rather romantic gesture.

At least, the most romantic one she’d ever encountered.

“I... don’t have any clothes.” She finally managed - her lame attempt at a last resort. “I need to pack some things.”

Franklin made an impatient sound and the next thing Pam knew, he had scooped her up into his arms. “Mr. Darwell!”

“Just get in the bloody car, Pamela.” He shuffled her into the back seat effortlessly, barely giving her a moment to appreciate the surprising strength in his long, hard limbs. Within a trice, he slid into the cab beside her, closing the door behind him. “And call me Franklin, for God’s sake. You’re making me feel old.”

As insane as this entire experience was, Pam found herself smiling. Actually smiling.

She had hoped to spend the evening finding a few unique Chinese antiques and now she was on her way to the airport. She didn’t even have a spare change of clothes and she wanted, with every fiber of her being, to argue with the impulsive, commanding man who really was all but kidnapping her, but she couldn’t.

Because she was finally going to China...and she would get the chance she’d been waiting for all her life.

To find what she’d lost so long ago.

**

Laura Beth didn’t know if she’d ever been so content in her entire life. She’d just come from a spa treatment overlooking the bow of their beautiful cruise ship, she’d gotten in a bit of shopping, and now, she was sunning herself on the aft with Janice and Rosario as they sipped at mimosas. They didn’t call The Majestic the ocean’s jewel for nothing. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful ship she’d ever been on.

That any of them had been on.

They had four more days of beautiful weather and laziness to look forward to, and, to top it all off, Franklin Darwell hadn’t even come with them.

To say she had been surprised when Franklin invited them all on a cruise was an understatement. Laura had been under the distinct impression that the British nobleman didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of them - except for Pam. But he couldn’t be so bad if he was footing the bill for a trip that would have cost thousands of pounds per person otherwise.

Even though she knew of Pam’s hatred for charity, Laura found herself flummoxed as to why she hadn’t accepted this trip. Laura didn’t know when the last time she’d even taken a vacation was. And why the hell was she so opposed to Darwell’s interest in her anyway? If it were Laura, she would milk it for everything she could.

“Enjoying yourselves, ladies?” As Marlin stretched out on a chair next to her, Laura rolled her eyes. She supposed that the only downside to this trip was that she had to deal with her brother. Though she loved him dearly, it would have been nicer if this had been a ladies trip...then they would have been free to gossip about Pam and Darwell, their very generous benefactor.

Laura made a face as Rosario eyed her brother with no small amount of interest. The two had hooked up in the past and Laura supposed they would again. Marlin wasn’t bad-looking, she supposed, but she had certainly never looked at him that way.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Marlin?”

Lauren’s brother smiled at her. “Always, Laura. Pays to have friends like Russell Darwell, doesn’t it?”

Laura merely grinned mischievously at him. It certainly did.

If there was one quality that she liked best about Marlin, it was that he was far more like her than he liked to let on.  “I’m glad you’re in a good mood.” Marlin brought out a pair of expensive Ray Ban’s to slide on. “I’m sure you’ll be happy for Pam.”

Laura smirked. “Happy she’s still in the UK, you mean?”

Marlin chuckled, very amused by something or the other. “No, that she’s on her way to China with his highness.”

Laura bolted upright. “She what?”

Marlin laughed at her outraged expression. “Yeah, he just called me. Pretty fucking proud of himself, that guy. Apparently, he snatched her from the antiques show. They’re on their way to the airport as we speak.”

Laura stared at her brother hard and long. “And this doesn’t...bother you?”

Lord knew it bothered her. She’d thought that Darwell might have given up on Pam at this point. The woman was dead set on being away from him. Or, at least, Laura thought she was.

And then Marlin had his own issues with Franklin leaving the country.

“Don’t look so upset.” Her brother folded well-muscled arms behind his head. “He’ll be back.”

That was true, of course, but when he would be back was a pretty open issue. Laura was about to pursue the matter further when she realized that Rosario and Janice were listening a little harder than was warranted in the situation.

She would drop it, for now. Enjoy the rest of her trip. There was always time for stress when she got back to England.

**

Pam was still pretty sure she was dreaming. She had to be.

She’d gone traveling relatively few times in her life, but when she did, it was in economy class, packed shoulder to shoulder with whoever else was flying. Franklin had booked them first-class tickets to Beijing without batting an eye, and she was thereafter treated to what was easily one of the most luxurious experiences of her thirty years.

She had the equivalent of her own cubicle in the bloody plane, with a seat that reclined and became a bed, a private television set, blankets, and an all manner of other gadgets she would never imagined they could fit in a plane. Atop that, the flight staff referred to her by name, and when she wasn’t asleep, stuffed her full of delicacies she had only ever imagined trying.

Franklin, for his part, was rather smug about the whole thing. When Pam attempted to argue that he had spent too much money on the flight, he had merely pressed her with more wine and then promptly rolled over in his own seat to take a nap. Pam couldn’t very well be angry at him while he was sleeping, and she took the time to watch a movie before enjoying a selection of chocolate, wine and cheese.

It was, of course, easier to enjoy everything without Franklin’s discerning eye on her.

Pamela found herself torn between trying to detach herself from the VIP treatment and indulging in luxuries she had never known before. Part of her wanted to order everything on the menu. To drink herself into a coma and sink into a sleep unbothered by how early she had to get up the next morning.

From the airport, she had called her temp agency and told them - with no small amount of reluctance - that she was taking a leave of absence. She had half expected them to can her on the spot, but, instead, they just wished her well and told her to enjoy her time off.

It was then that it occurred to her that it had been a very, very long time since she had last taken a day off. Pam always tried to work as hard as she could to make sure that she could make ends meet - and that meant there were very few spontaneous vacations.

But, in the end, she supposed this one certainly made up for it.

The few glasses of wine she had soon made her drowsy, and the young woman found that when she reclined her seat it gave her a perfect view of Franklin’s broad back. His t-shirt was so thin that she could see the definition of his muscles right through it, and a tiny thrill zipped through her at the memory of how he’d hauled her into the taxi.

Pam was not a small woman. Certainly, she wasn’t gargantuan, by any means, but for him to pluck her up like she weighed nothing? She wondered where all that strength came from? Would he be the type of man to toss her around during...other activities?

The very prospect made her face redden and Pam quickly ducked under her blanket. She needed sleep. It was very obvious that the wine had gone to her head, and she still had eight more hours on the plane - sitting right next to a man she was undeniably attracted to.

Pamela had no idea how she managed, but somehow, she slept.

She didn’t wake up until they were landing in Beijing, and upon arrival, it was suddenly impressed upon her that she didn’t have a visa - something she had expressed to Franklin before they left.

She was surprised, however, when they were whisked away to some official looking offices the moment they de-boarded the plane and Franklin greeted the middle-aged Chinese man in charge like he was an old friend.

“Pamela, this is Mr. Wang. He’s in charge of Visa processing for America and most of Western Europe. We’ve also tackled a few projects together in the WHO Chinese sector.”

In a daze, Pam shook his hand. The WHO Chinese sector? Franklin had connections with the WHO?

She would never have thought. “Usually, we don’t process visas on such short notice,” Mr. Wang explained, though his smile never wavered, “Though I supposed I do owe Franklin a few favors.”

A few...favors.

This was a little too much for her.

Franklin instructed her to take a seat as he began to chat with Wang in Chinese while he processed their paperwork. Completely flabbergasted, the woman stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. Jesus Christ, she’d been completely had! When she told Franklin that she wanted to go to China, he’d merely whisked her away on the pretense of adventure. He hadn’t seen fit - not for the entire fifteen-hour flight - to reveal to her that he’d been here before.

That he knew Chinese?

It was about twenty minutes before he returned to her side, extending your passport. “Here you are, my dear.”

Pam just stared at him, unblinking. “You know Chinese.”

Franklin nodded, once, as if this was no big surprise. “Makes things a bit easier. Hate to have translators dithering about all the time.”

“You’ve been here before.” Pam went on, carefully, no question in her words. “Several times.”

Franklin’s expression became more cautious then. “You’re not angry are you?”

And, surprisingly, Pam found she wasn’t. A little irked, perhaps, that he hadn’t seen fit to share this little tidbit with her, but not angry. In fact, once the shock wore off, there were a thousand questions bubbling up inside her that she wanted to ask - but she didn’t want to seem childish.

“No... but you could have mentioned all this before you…” She searched for the proper term.

“Kidnapped you?” Franklin provided with a grin, and Pam couldn’t help the way her lips turned upwards.

“Yes.”

“Well, you didn’t properly give me a chance, did you? This being our first date and all.” He winked cheekily. “I assure you, there’s loads you don’t know about me, Pamela.”

Even if she wanted to be angry, Pam was pretty sure the rage wouldn’t come. Even after seeing the way Franklin treated people he didn’t like, she couldn’t help but notice that he was being perfectly charming with her - if a tad bit forward.

Taking her passport, she followed him through customs - where they made it through in about two minutes flat because Franklin knew someone else there, and then they were catching a cab to the city.

And Pamela’s world opened up.

She wanted to look everywhere at once - from the small, hand-built houses on the outskirts of the city to the traditional buildings that wound down the side streets alongside huge skyscrapers and thousands upon thousands of cars. The traffic was awful, but their cab driver operated with an ease that told them how used to the conditions he was. Twice, they narrowly avoided being hit by buses, but the driver just laughed, and Pam found herself strangely exhilarated.

The streets thronged with people, and not just pedestrians. There were tons of vendors buying and selling a delicious-looking assortment of food, souvenir-stalls on wheels, and little carriages for two pulled around by single, hearty men.

It was like every picture she’d ever seen, and somehow, it was much, much more.

As they made their way towards the center of the city, she found herself pressing her nose against the window, awed at every new sight that greeted her eyes. Fat, gleaming roasted ducks hung in windows to tantalize passersby, vegetable carts full of fresh produce from the countryside, businessmen and children alike squatting on their haunches in a position that hurt just to look at, but seemed completely natural for each and every one of them.

“Wouldn’t suggest that.” Franklin noticed her staring and smiled knowingly. “Takes a bit of getting used to - and very, very strong ankles.”

Pamela grinned before looking past him excitedly a street hung with lanterns that wound backward among a bevy of alleys before disappearing from sight.

“That’s a hutong,” Franklin provided for her, his tongue sliding easily over the unfamiliar syllables. “A traditional neighborhood. They’re working on modernizing the city, but there are still hundreds of them right alongside business districts. Here...”

All at once, his arm was around her and he was guiding her gently but firmly over him to point out the window.

For a brief moment, Pam forgot everything beyond the car. As Franklin’s spicy, clean scent enveloped her and the warmth of his body pressed against her shoulder, her mouth grew dry. There was nothing innately intimate about his touch - it was just his arm around her upper back as he spoke lowly, explaining the juxtaposition of rich and poor in the city. But, as interested as she was, Pam found she had a hard time paying attention.

He smelled so good - and she could feel the hard lines of his chest brushing, feather light, against her. She was assaulted by the sudden desire to bury her face in his shoulder and take him in. To wrap her arms around his neck and feel the full length of his body against her. She ached for him so suddenly and so powerfully that it took her breath away...and all from a simple touch.

“Pamela?”

A low sound of surprise escaped her, and she returned to the present to see him looking down at her with a small smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Are you quite alright?”

“Fine!” Pam jerked back into her seat as if burned, feeling a color rush to her cheeks.

Thankfully, at that moment, the driver pulled into the drive of their hotel, and Pam found herself gaping at yet another Chinese wonder.

“The Shangri-La Beijing - a nice little oasis in the center of everything, in my opinion.” Franklin slid from the car after her once he’d paid the taxi driver and laughed softly at the look on her face. “I take it you approve?”

Pam’s first instinct was to insist that she couldn’t afford to stay here. But, she was swiftly reminded by her guilty conscience, she couldn’t really afford to come to China either. Franklin was footing the entire bill - something she was still struggling to come to terms with.

The Shangri-La was in a magnificent building decorated with at least a hundred gleaming dragons that seemed to dance in the sunlight. The lobby was done in black marble with gold scrolling, and, as she walked through it, Pam was wholly mortified by the prospect that her shoes might scuff the gleaming floor beneath them.

As Franklin checked in for them, she looked around, becoming more and more desperately overwhelmed until he finally spoke to her. “Pamela, you’re a little pale.”

Turning to him, she did her best to put her feelings into words. “I’m just...it’s a little...Isn’t this a bit...pricey? I mean…”

The man before her merely smiled knowingly. “It’s already booked. You wouldn’t want me to lose my deposit, would you?”

“No, of course not...but this seems…. a bit much.” She finally finished somewhat lamely.

Franklin only smirked, his blue eyes gleaming with mirth. “Well, it’s our first date. If I don’t impress you, how will I get you to come on a second?”

He was out of his mind. Completely and totally chuffed. But, incredibly, Pam found herself smiling. “I thought I told you I hated ostentatious displays of wealth.”

“Oh, so do I.” Franklin reassured her winningly. “Don’t worry, after we’ve taken care of business, I’ll take you away from this terrifyingly luxurious hotel and into the dark hutongs of old.”

Pamela swallowed her laughter. How could he always make her laugh when she was supposed to be making a point. “Wait, what business?”

Franklin’s smile was far too smug for his own good. “Just you wait and see.”

 

**

“No, Franklin. No way. I’m not going in there.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised. There was a reason he hadn’t told her where they were going. All things considered, Franklin believed that she was taking this whole trip pretty well.

He’d only booked one room, but it was a suite, and at the sight of the single bed, she had immediately eyed him skeptically. He was more than willing to sleep on the couch if that was more to her liking - it was more than comfortable enough, and he hadn’t expected that she would welcome him into her bed with open arms.

Not at first.

But now they had to deal with the fact that both of them had come with little more than the clothes on their back, which meant there were a few things they had to purchase. Franklin was pretty certain that Chinese street markets wouldn’t have a lot for either he or Pamela - they were both too tall and she was certainly a far sight more curvaceous than most of the minute women wandering around the city.

Unfortunately, that meant brand name boutiques, and he might have guessed she’d balk at the very idea.

They now stood in one of the most lauded shopping malls in all of Beijing, surrounded by Louis Vuitton, Gucci and Fendi, and Pamela looked like a deer in bloody headlights. It was more than a little endearing.

“So, are you going to wear those clothes the entire time you’re here?” He gestured at her sweatshirt and jeans, and Pamela winced, her green eyes flashing dangerously.

“We’ll just have to leave tomorrow then, won’t we?”

Franklin exhaled a long breath. “You may decry the way I throw money around, Pamela, but it would be an obscene waste if we came all this way for nothing. Are you really prepared to give up on your dreams for a single change of clothes?”

Really, he was completely intent on buying her more than that - they would need more than that if they were to spend any amount of time in China. But if he could get her to consent to one, then hopefully she would consent to more.

Franklin found it rather refreshing, actually, that Pamela seemed so taken aback by luxury. The few times he’d dated women in the past, it seemed like all they wanted was to get him in a shopping mall to foot their expensive bills. Pamela was obviously not that kind of woman.

“I’m…” He could see her struggling with her conceptions. “I’m going to pay you back. I swear I will.”

The thought made Franklin slightly uncomfortable because he didn’t doubt that she’d do it - not for a second; and he couldn’t in all good conscious, see himself taking her hard earned money when she could barely make ends meet as it was.

“Lovely.” For now, he wouldn’t argue. They’d been doing quite enough of that, and as much as he enjoyed these little bouts, he hadn’t come to China just to trade witticisms with her. “Let’s go then.”

The first time he had ever taken her arm, something akin to panic had spread across the young woman’s face. Now, after twenty-four hours spent with him, she was a little less startled every time he took her hand - and that was certainly progress.

They were bum rushed by Chinese saleswomen in the first shop they entered, and they proceeded to ooh and ahh over Pamela’s green eyes and blonde hair. Franklin made it a point not to translate those details, as he knew they would only embarrass her. Once they settled down, the saleswomen were actually very helpful, and they left the shop with three dresses. Franklin was careful not to let Pamela see the price he had paid for them, as he wasn’t too keen for her to hit the roof so soon.

The next shop they went into had a collection of Chinese-inspired clothing, and the young woman’s face lit up the moment they stepped inside. She ran her hands almost reverently over the brocade fabrics and handmade shoes, and, to her merit, offered very few protests when the saleswoman began suggesting things for her to try on.

Franklin sat back on a readily available couch and enjoyed the flush that colored Pamela’s cheeks every time she was paraded in front of him in a new outfit. The smooth lines and bright colors of the clothing suited her quite well, and Franklin found himself purchasing a jacket as well. There was no fuss when they left -Pamela was far too absorbed in the gorgeous peach-silk dress she was wearing, and Franklin was hard-pressed to take his eyes off her. The color was gorgeous against her pale skin and golden hair.

“What?” She caught him looking at her as they made to enter another shop and Franklin didn’t bother to hide his attentions.

“You look lovely in that dress. It suits you.”

Her cheeks pinkened slightly. “Oh, well...thank you.” Maybe if he kept her flustered with enough compliments, she wouldn’t be able to argue with him. That would be convenient indeed.

Despite Pamela’s initial reservations, they spent quite a companionable afternoon shopping. While she blanched away from most things aside from clothing for the first hour or so, Franklin eventually got her into the task with gusto. He himself wasn’t a man prone to long shopping excursions, but he was certainly enjoying it with Pamela.

Especially when he got around to shopping for himself. Franklin could have very happily worn the same two pairs of pants and three t-shirts for as long as they were in China, as long as he had access to a washer and dryer. But afterward he bought Pamela so many items they had to send the packages to the hotel to avoid weighing themselves down.

“Why not?” She crossed her arms over her ample chest, glaring accusingly at him after he politely refused to go into a shop for men. “You made me buy all those things for me and you won’t even get anything for yourself?”

Franklin shrugged. “Women need to feel comfortable. They like options - at least that’s what my sister-in-law always tells me.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “Darwell, get in that shop.”

He arched a brow in intrigue. Franklin wasn’t totally opposed to her ordering him around. He merely resolved to get back at her for it somewhere along the road. Ultimately, he let her usher him into the shop, and their roles were reversed. It was she who sat primly on whatever chair was provided for her while he tried things on.

To his surprise, she was fairly vocal about what she did and didn’t like - she was like Alice in that way. But, unlike his sister-in-law, Pamela didn’t have an affinity for fine silks and expensive materials. She liked the simpler things.

“Oh, that’s lovely.” She commented on a brown wool sweater and a pair of black slacks that fit him admirably well, for being made for a man much shorter than him. “I mean...they look good on you.” She looked away the moment he met her gaze and he couldn’t help but tease her.

“What’s so nice about them?” He made a show of doing a complete three-sixty for her. “Does my arse look good?”

“Yes.” Pamela answered without thinking before her entire face turned cherry. “I mean, they fit you well! The colors are...good!”

She was so fun to fluster. “I always thought brown was rather dowdy. Makes me look rather...skinny.”

“Oh, bite your tongue.” Her coloring still high, Pamela retorted almost instantly. “No one in their right mind would call you skinny.”

It was obvious that she had never met his brother and brother-in-law. They were in a completely different bracket than he was - but it definitely bolstered his pride when Pamela told him that he looked good.

Janeane liked to tease him that if he just beefed up his regime a bit, he could be like Russell, knowing that was the last thing that he wanted. If his brother wanted to be a muscle model, that was his affair. Franklin was quite content with his own body composition.

He bought the sweater and the slacks, along with a few other pieces, and then a handsome leather belt and a pair of shoes just in case they ended up at a higher-class restaurant - though he hardly believed Pamela would allow such a thing.

For lunch, he introduced her to jian bing, a famous Beijing street food that consisted of a layer of egg, crispy fried tofu, duck, chili sauce and scallions. Franklin had often seen tourists turn their nose up at Chinese street food - most often those with a lot of money. Certainly, hole in the wall restaurants and carts weren’t known for their cleanliness, but the food was unparalleled.

“Oh my God…” The moment she bit into her bing, Pamela’s eyes slid closed as a low sound of pleasure escaped her. “This is amazing. Nothing like the takeaway at home.”

“I should hope not,” Franklin returned, doing his best to keep his body from reacting to her overt moans of pleasure. She really had no idea how alluring she was. Especially in that dress, with her hair thrown into a messy knot at the base of her neck with a pair of decorative chopsticks - she made quite the fetching picture. Even her glasses, which he knew most men weren’t partial to, appealed to him; in Franklin’s mind, they alluded to the sharp intelligence behind her gorgeous visage.

“Is this a breakfast thing? A lunch thing?”

“More of a whenever-you-please thing.” Franklin chuckling, ordering another one for them to share.

Pamela had rather a hearty appetite when she wasn’t worried about what she could and couldn’t afford. Franklin led her to one of Beijing’s most prominent street food streets and the spent a good two hours eating their way through select stalls.

Pamela asked him shamelessly what everything was, and, surprisingly, didn’t blanch at even some of the most exotic dishes. She tried stinky tofu - even though she held her nose while she took a bite. A tiny shop at the very back corner in an alley sold a murky liquor that came from a bottle in which a whole snake was curing, and Pamela’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Is that a snake?”

Franklin nodded, barely suppressing a grin. “Is that alcohol?”

“Yes.” He half expected her to run for the hills, screaming.

“Can we try some?” Franklin looked at her like she’d grown another head. She wanted to try snake liquor? This woman was truly an anomaly.

“You really want to?”

“Bloody hell, yes. I might never get another chance.” He liked the way she thought. Franklin bought two shots of the frightening looking alcohol and they held them aloft before drinking.

“To China, then?”

Franklin nodded in assent. “To China.”

It was revolting, burning down his throat and sitting heavy in his stomach. Franklin made a face. “That is foul.”

“Yeah,” On this point, Pamela didn’t even attempt to argue. “It certainly is.”

It was the most eventful thing to happen their first day, and entire way back to the hotel, Pam peppered Franklin with questions about everything she saw. He was happy to point out temples, markets and the prestigious Beijing University to her. By the time they got back to the hotel, it was close to seven in the evening, and Pam, unused to major jetlag, was nodding against the window of the cab.

Tempted as he was to just hoist her into his arms and carry her up to the hotel room, he highly doubted she would approve - even half-asleep as she was. So, instead, he just roused her and led her to the elevator.

Their thirteenth-floor suite had a lovely view of the city below, and Franklin admired it for a moment before he closed the curtains to give them a semblance of privacy. Pamela was slumped against the couch, her breath already deepening.

“No you don’t,” Franklin wrapped an arm around her waist, hoisting her up and helping her to the sprawling king bed in the next room. As she settled there, he lifted her feet onto the mattress, removing her shoes to find pink painted toenails. Pamela sighed, rolling onto her side as he worked the covers from beneath her form before spreading them over her. “Comfy?”

“Mmm...” She murmured, closer to sleep than wakefulness. Franklin had to swallow the urge to climb into bed with her - to feel her curves against him and inhaled the scent of her hair. Those were, of course, his tamer impulses. Instead of touching her, however, he merely reached down to remove her glasses gently, placing them on the bedside table.

Without them, she was more relaxed - and infinitely more vulnerable.

Franklin took a deep, measured breath as his pants tightened slightly below the waist. He needed a shower - a very cold shower. And if he was going to spend any amount of time in this country with Pamela, he might need the same treatment every hour, on the hour.

Hesitating slightly, Franklin leaned down to brush a stray strand of hair from her brow.  He wondered when she had last relaxed - really relaxed. He decided he would make it his priority to see her with her guard down. That would be worth far more than anything he had spent on this trip.

 

Franklin was out like a light that night, and he slept a full twelve hours before being woken at eight in the morning by a call on his phone.

“Yes?” He groaned, into the receiver, still half-asleep. Jetlag had always been his least favorite part of traveling.

“Mr. Darwell.” A curt voice in Chinese answered him. “I heard you have returned to the country. I’m sorry to interrupt your vacation time, but is there any way you could come to the Tsui Wu Building downtown for a quick meeting? We won’t take much of your time.”

“Yeah, um…” Franklin checked his watch. “Give me an hour, alright? I’ll be there.”

“Thank you very much.”

After hanging up, he laid on the couch for a long while, contemplating. He should have known it was only a matter of time before they called him in. He had no problem meeting with them, of course, the question was: what to do with Pamela.

He rose from the couch, stretching, and strode over to the bedroom, bare-chested. Franklin opened the door soundlessly to the sight of Pamela still slumbering deeply, one slender arm dangling from the bed. Her hair had come loose in the night, and it hallowed around her head on the pillows, catching and reflecting the sun’s early morning light.

Franklin swallowed thickly - he was loathed to wake her, and yet, if he didn’t he might do something incomparably stupid...like kiss her in every place that he could reach. Steeling himself, he crossed the room to the bed and perched on the edge before shaking her shoulder gently. “Pamela.”

She made a soft sound of discomfort, her face screwing up cutely as she rolled over beneath the blankets. “Pamela, I need you to get up.”

When he spoke a second time, her expression softened, and she sighed, long and low. “Franklin…”

The way she said his name had every muscle in his body taut and his mouth dry. She was obviously trying to kill him, even if she didn’t know it. Carefully, Franklin leaned down so that his mouth was scant inches from her ear, and it took every iota of willpower he possessed to keep him from tasting the delicate line of her neck. “Pamela, wake up.”

This time, his words had the desired effect. Pam bolted upright, her head almost colliding with his. For the briefest moment, he read the confusion in her eyes - then she remembered where she was. Her gaze fell on him and her eyes widened.

It was at that juncture that Franklin remembered that he was clad in only a pair of boxer briefs. Rather than be self-conscious, however, he let her look her fill. The heated interest in her eyes sent a thrill through him, and he had to force himself to clear his throat after almost a full minute. “Good morning, Pamela.”

God, he loved to see the way the color rushed to her cheeks like that.

“Franklin, you’re bloody naked!” She immediately held up a pillow before herself in an attempt to block her view. “For heaven’s sake, put some clothes on.”

“My apologies.” Franklin couldn’t stop himself grinning. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I’m not frightened I just...pants! Please put some pants on!”

It was probably a good idea considering that he would rapidly be in danger of giving her a good eyeful of the effect she was having on him. “Alright, alright.” That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to tease her though. “It’s rather comfortable though. You might like to try it.”

That got the pillow thrown out at his head. “Out! Out!”

Franklin got out, fairly shaking with laughter. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had this much fun - it was even better than the weeks he’d spent with Marlin. Of course, he hadn’t been pursuing Marlin romantically...he supposed that made quite a bit of difference.